ONL

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski

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Location: Quincy : Inside house (D7 -> D10)
Skills: Electrionic engineering, Jury-rigging electronics

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Things were looking up for the group, at least in regards to ensuring Thalia's recovery. Manny was positive that they only needed a set of needles to do the tranfusion well enough not to screw it up, but also that they needed the right type of blood. Which was a given obviously, even Mugsy knew that. He knew Jude had been drilled the knowledge of what happens if a pasient recieves the wrong blood-type, even for short amounts of time, and Alexander had seen their medic make sure he didn't fuck it up on the people he tried to save. And Alexander wasn't about to do the same, and gave his answer to the three others.

"O Positive. I'm a match." Alexander said as he got up from the floor with sweaty palms and a deep breath. He really had to stop getting up and down from the floor so much, he was getting to old for that shit. It was getting pretty dark, and it was doing so pretty fast, covering the house and its interior in darkness akin to the leaves of jungle trees in South east Asia. And worst of all was that Thana still was MIA. "I hope so too, Thalia, I hope so. But she's Navy, they are tough crackers." Alexander hoped so at least. "I'll be right back, just going to search for some light."

Alexander soon was off searching the rest of the house for anything to light it up, more specifically anything electronic he could jury-rigg with his 9-volt battery. But the darkness that he tried to fight back made the search fruitless as the Battle of Hamburger Hill. The old veteran couldn't find anything useful to his electronic skills. He missed fiddling with electrionics, and briefly thought back to the Battle of Eden he had taken part in. Radio-contact with the cavarly, that was part of what had made the operation a relative success. Relative...Alexander limped back to the others, leaning against the wall in the hallway as he looked at them with tired and perhaps dissapointed eyes. "If we don't find any light here, we might as well move all our things into one of the rooms, secure it and get some sleep."

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Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper

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Location: Okefenokee: D4 -> E3
Skills: Scouting, Survival

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So Nigel was getting on Hank's nerves with his own game? Nigel "Hadrian" lifted the side of his mouth into a brief smile, perhaps even a grin, before continuing down the road to their awaiting Fortuna, whatever she might have in stock for them. Perhaps it would be a good idea not to call him by those two words again, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to do something about his own nickname, "Sporticus". Instead of calling back to Hank, Nigel acknowledged Erika's own introduction and made his way down the road alongside that legion if misfits.

It was getting dark, so it was no wonder that the Neo-Roman had difficulties scouting their surroundings. But he tried nonetheless, stopping in the road leading up to what he presumed Erika had meant was the fishing camp and taking a look with his binoculars around them. It felt heavy to hold up against his eyes in the humidity and armour he was wearing; everything was starting to feel heavy really, but he had to keep soldiering on like the legionaire he was, or face Hades. Looking around Nigel got the impression that nothing of danger was in their immediate area, which was at least not a bad sign. "Coast looks clear." Nigel stated, putting down his binoculars and following Erika. He really hoped he could take of his armour soon and get some rest, hopefully without being called History Channel names again.

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Mahendra Huq Zalil

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Location: Second Deck (Personal Cabin)
Skills: N/A

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The enveloping feeling of being consumed by unknown forces had by now been replaced by familiar shapes and forms now behaving normally around Mahendra. They were still in some sense foreign to him, but he himself was managing to comprehend their strangeness, even take certain shapes himself to align to them so much that they recognized him as one of them. Them being people, he would slowly understand as his dream kept unfolding. Saraswati had left him for now, but he could stand his ground by himself. He was ready to step into his place in that world.

The next parts of his pain- and burn-indused dream was a whole lot more grounded that the lucid hallucinations beforehand. He recognized several people he knew in the real world; His professor and several students from Oxford University, his wife back in India who smiled at him and gave him the sense that she supported him, and the first people he worked with in England as a geologist. It was a comforting sight to see the people he knew and trusted, but also missed. Some he hadn't seen for months and years, some he might never see again. As Mahendra turned away from them, he saw another group of people with him; the so-called Fellowship. The group of unlikely companions in Egypt now on some unknown but grand quest to solve ancient mystery that affected them. Some of the figures were clearer than others, amongst them being the Lord Mayor as a person of stature and authority, and Lauren as the kind lady that had taken care of him.

When would he wake up to once again see them?

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Richard Barker

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Location: Lower Deck (Dining Area)
Location: None

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"Where have I heard of that before?" Richard let the question hang in the smoke-filled air of the lower deck, not being able but to feel the sense of deja-vu roll over him as he took another good long drag of his cigarette. When were you going to snap? You all didn't know her. She wouldn't do something like that. I was going find out what happened. Richard, the hard-boiled detective that was slowly but surely becoming that rotting egg, had heard all of that before. Of course people don't believe that they loved and close ones can do "something like that". Why would they, they didn't know that they were lying through their teeth. People rarely show their true selves to others, and even then people forget those parts when they seek to rescure their idealized version of an angel.

The worst part was that Richard himself had been like that...still was like that. His little girl wouldn't just run away, no matter what people told him. And he would not stop looking for her. Never. It was the burning passion of his soul those days, the only thing warm in him perhaps. Or one of them.

With the call to put away their plates and Faye doing so, Richard was soon to follow. But finally his usually observant eyes snapped back to action, watching as...HIS SLEEVE WAS ON FIRE! "Jesus H. Christ!" Richard didn't even think what to do, and just grabbed the nearest glass or bottle and pour the remaining liquid on his sleeve. The fire wasn't difficult to put out, but Richard was nonetheless standing up, breathing heavily as he wondered just what the hell had happened. But with the obvious looks from the other passengers locked on him, he briefly gave them looks back and put away his tray and glass as he told them "الى ماذا تنظرين؟*"

With his tray and glass put away, Richard was again with Faye as she asked him if he found the lack of clues odd. Richard gave her a look of something of a mix of annoyance and disbelief, though he answered her question first. "I find it odd? Not really; any lack of clues point to someone wanting to cover their tracks, and eventually they'll screw up and drop a whole wheelbarrow of it." Richard's answer was quick, but turned just as quickly into a sarcastic question. "You know what I do find odd? The fact that you didn't tell me that my sleeve was on fire. When were you going to tell me that?" Richard asked, but his venomous words soon lost their bite as he tried to calm down and determined to turn back to the case. "Let's go upstair, find your army boys. We might ask them some questions, and I need to air out this singe."

*Translation

What are you looking at?

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

Robert Adler

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Robert Adler

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Character Summary

Name: Robert Adler
Aliases: Bert, Robbie
Age: 48
Birthday: 6th of December
Ethnicity: Caucasian (American-German)
Birth Place: Chicago
Residence: Apartments above Grimaldi
Gender: Male
Major/Minor: Majored in Law, Minored in Phychology
Occupation: Insurance fraud investigatior
Languages: English, German

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Appearance

Height: 5ft, 8 inches
Weight: 181 lbs
Build: Chubby
Eyes: Dark grey
Hair: Dark blone, greyening
Skin Tone: Fair
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: N/A
Personal Style:

Robert rarely dresses to impress others around him, instead going for a low-casual style revolving the fact that his wardrobe isn't the size of The Great Lakes. He usually wears a good fall- and winter jacket of a dark colour, switching between being made of leather or fabric. Underneath he wears a shirt, mostly white or red, and normal blue jeans with weathered dress shoes. What, you think working in insurance gives you buttloads of money just like that? Think again kiddo, only when you're selling it. But Robert does sport a fair enough moustache and beard, so at least that's something.

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Psychology

Determined * Tired * Loyal * Sarcastic * Tough * Biased

Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Married to his desk and job
Personality:

Robert is tired. Tired of everything that keeps screwing up in his life. Because it all feels the same, never changing. Robert comes of as a man with little joy in his life most times, and what little joy he has he sure isn't sharing with you. Those he don't know or don't care for, he'll keep conversation short if he can, or sarcastic if he wants to. And as for his work, he's almost gotten used to doubting every case he's on; it's always fraud, always short-term gain. People are funny like that, but he no longer finds the joke amusing.

But he keeps working. Sure he does it because he can't find employment anywhere else, but then again he's good at what he does. Robert's persistant in digging off the dirt of what has happened, and doesn't give up easily once he has his mind set on it. Even if he's tired, he knows he's got a job to do. Same might apply for the few people he knows he can count on out there; the friends who didn't judge him for failing in life, those he's boxing with, the person his heart beats a little bit faster for. He's loyal towards them, afraid of losing them, even if some he can't get. He's a very conflicted man like that.

Habits: Stretching his fingers, arms, neck and such to pop joints, and quietly humming to Genesis.
Hobbies: Boxing, reading crime novels, watching German televison
Fears:

• Claustrophobia
• Leg-Lamps. Lamps made to look like legs. They're terrifying.
• Alcohol withdrawel

Likes:

• Poirot
• Beer
• The end of the week
• Genesis - With Phil Collins, fight me.
• Warm and sunny days
• Easy cases

Dislikes:

• Liars
• His boss
• Mondays
• Pasta
• Winter
• Rain

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Cards On The Table

General World Skills:

• Law
• Number-Cracking
• People-Reading
• Research
• Driving (Car)

Combat Skills:

• Boxing
• Pistol
• Endurance
• Throwing
• Stamina

What Is On Your Person:

• Clothing: Dark brown leater jacket, blue jeans, red cotton shirt, brown dress shoes, fall gloves.
• Wallet: Driver's License, 60 $ of cash, Firearm's License, Credit Card, Boxing Club membership card
• Cell Phone, Samsung Galaxy S4
• Car keys
• Notebook and pen
• Apartment keys
• Access card to Insurance Company
• Glock 26
• Spare magazine (10 rounds)

Residence:

• Laptop
• External computer storage
• Boxing gloves
• 9mm Ammunition (two magazines, 10 rounds each)
• Books on Law and Physcology
• His (unprofessional) collection of Agatha Christie books
• His stereo player from the 90's
• Vinyl collection (including Genesis)
• 2004 Ford Crown Victoria

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History

What Brings You To The City:

What brings Robert to Chicago isn't perhaps the best way to ask that question, rather "What keeps you in Chicago?" would be better. Robert was born and bred in the streets of Chicago, studied there and got his line-of-work sorted out there. Even if he wanted to leave the city, get away from his old problem-filled life, he was stuck there with his job as an insurance-scam agent. If he can't get a promotion after so many years on the job, what makes him believe it's any easier out there? So it's best for him to stay in Chicago and live his life like he has so far.

Life Before You Moved In:

Robert had a pretty normal childhood and youth, like most kids in 1970's America. Happily married parents with a single child, who worked decent jobs and owned an American-made car that brought the three of them on many a roadtrip across the country, sometimes across the border to Canadia. Robert showed promise as a highschool student, scoring far above average in mathematics and earning him several prices in school competitions. He even proved to be a good pitcher on the school's baseball team, though he had higher ambitions that just being good at sport. After highschool he decided to go to university to become a lawyer. That was surely the way to become as happy and succesful as his parents?

Turns out it wasn't. Robert's achivements in highschool didn't translate well into university, and he soon became just an average student who's life failed to improve as he ended up with a mediocre education in an mediocre economy that didn't mediocre lawyers. And it hit down hard on Robert, becoming the failure compared to his parents. They never openly judged him, but silently he knew what they thought, so it wasn't long before he moved out on his own far away from their prying eyes.

For a few year he didn't get far with his law-degree, instead working odd-jobs and temp-positions here and there. He even picked up boxing as an hobby, became decent in that too. But when he got offered what looked like a good job working in insurance, Robert wasn't in any position to say no. And so he began working as an insurance fraud investigator, digging up the dirt on people trying to get benefits and money they didn't deserve.

For a while that was good enough, proving himself to be a good investigator who could crack the numbers and find out where certain policies didn't add up. Working with people up front and personal proved that he also had a knack for figuring whether they were lying or not. And that was all well and good, until Robert realized he had worked the same job at the same desk in the same building for over 15 years. But he was stuck; he couldn't feasably get another job, not in that economy. So he stuck at the same job.

Life Since You Moved In:

And so life stayed pretty much the same for the coming years. Only thing that changed was that Robert got a gun and learned to shoot once it seemed life in the city was on a downward spiral to Hell, or someplace ever worse. That, and his growing facial hair and belly at the expense for his looks. Now Robert is without his parents, any partner or loved one, and any positive future except when he can retire in...how many years that was he was having trouble solving the math out of, but not for lack of trying.

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Extras

Character Quote: "You'd think people would insure themselves against stupidity or something, but no; they're insured against things that don't happen to the averange American. Only people who actually are smart enough are cheating the system for the money. And that's where I come in."
Theme Song:
Dirty Little Secret: Is secretly deeply in love with someone else in the company, but she doesn't know and is married. He'd do anything for her though.
Anything Else: "It's not a skirt!"

_{*By submitting this CS in its completion I am stating I have read all the rules for this Rp and am agreeing to follow them to the fullest with respect and courtesy.}

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski

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Location: Quincy : Inside house (D7) -> Garage (D7)
Skills: N/A

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"Seriously, nothing?" Alexander asked Manny when he came back with no medical supplies, first with a look of doubt, then of concern as he realized what it might mean. If Manny couldn't find anything to use for a blood transfusion for Thalia, she was at a greater risk of not making it through what lay in front of her. Alexander knew perfectly well what blood-loss did to one, and if Thalia didn't make it...Alexander wouldn't allow it. The one-legged veteran stumbled back up on his foot, looking from Thalia who was still, well, being her drug-high self, to Beatrice who took kindly care of her, and finally Manny. "Keep her comfortable, you two. I'll go take a look again."

Alexander limped out to the garage, a mix of images from near and distant pasts rolling through his mind as he tried to remember. He'd seen Jude, they medic, do his best to help wounded soldiers out in the field, one time taking part in the blood transfusion himself. It wasn't as fancy as it was just before the world ended, but that meant it perhaps could be jury-rigged. And so Alexander rumaged as best he could through the garage, thinking back to when he searched it earlier. And he was lucky. He found a lot of tubing which he had disregarded earlier, which surely could be used! Alexander took some of the tubing with his free hand, and limped back to the kitchen to search some more.

"Here Manny, this can work." Alexander left the tubing on the kitchen counter for Manny to inspect, before sliding down on the floor and doing some more searching. He was sure he had seen some more when he found the water...bingo. Out from one of the cabinets, Alexander pulled out a few mason yars, almost perfect to use for an old school blood transfusion. It would work. It had to work, for Thalia. "Give me a hand with these. This'll help, now we just need the rest. How is she holding up? Does she still have water?"

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Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper

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Location: Okefenokee: C7 -> D4
Skills: Scouting

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Nigel gave a look of annoyance at Hank's suggestion for him to roll Robert of the road, or not. Was it really neccecary to dig it in like that? Nigel hadn't known him for long, not even an hour, but it still pained him enough. "I'm not going back there either, Shovel Knight. He's dead, and we got to keep moving." Nigel told him as they passed each other, having strapped his shield on his back, holding his Gladius with one hand and Robert's backpack in the other. Of all the things he'd wish Robert had, was a sunhat, cap or anything to give some shade. Even if it was humid as Poseidon's buttocks, it would help.

Going past their new stranger to the legion, Erica, Nigel slowed down a little to look at her as she gave a heads up about another body up front. "Let's hope her loss was not in vain. I don't want that to be a permanent thing happening." Nigel said in the passing, but putting on a friendlier face as he looked at Erica one more time. "Call me Hadrian, by the way. It's good to see people not going after oneself again."

Nigel "Hadrian" then kept moving up the road, even making it past Wayne as he was doing nothing. In completely silence, perhaps oblivious to the world around him, Wayne was simply walking down the road. It was as odd an sight as teaming up with none the less than three survivors in one day, perhaps more disturbing though. But Nigel tried to focus his attention around him instead, though he didn't see anything else moving beside themselves. He did however see the line of undead lying on the road, once again dead like their souls with Hades were meant to. "How far is it to this fishing camp you're talking about? I really need to get this armor off me. And yes, it is real and sweaty as it looks like." Nigel said back to the rest of the group, the last part referring more to Wayne's and Hank's bantering about his Roman equiptment. And now that they were seemingly out of imminent danger, Nigel was starting to loose up ever so slightly. Or it was really that he was as sweaty as he looked like. Wearing armour like that really was a pain in the ass in a swamp.

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Mahendra Huq Zalil

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Location: Second Deck (Personal Cabin)
Skills: N/A

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Dreams are an interesting concept to think about, isn't it? A state of mind for the human body to freely sail from the oceans of reality and fiction, but never be entirely certain which is which. Mahendra's case was perhaps no different, as the shores of England warped into a mixture of colours and shapes he could only relate to something divine and ultimate, yet completely comprehensible for him. It was as if he felt the presence of someone...something watching carefully over him as Mahendra involuntarirly jumped into the sea of a thousand colours, into the unknown.

The bottomless chasm of unfathomable, yet tangible matter gave way to the sound of voices speaking in strange tounges. Mahendra did not understand, but could slowly feel the air below him evaporate, only to be replaced by the firm feel of something to sit on. The ground? A chair? A bench, with a long table before it. A lecture hall. The Indian man, formerly a merchant's son and a soldier, was now a student, but a student of what? The tounges, their now visible eyes all looked to Mahendra for answers to questions he didn't understand. But the presence he felt before now revealed themselves to him; Saraswati, the Goddess of Wisdom and Knowledge, held her wise eyes over him and helped him to understand. Earth? The ground, deep below...He now understood, and could finally answer in that same tounge.

Yes, he knew the answer.

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Richard Barker

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Location: Lower Deck (Dining Area)
Location: Observation, People-Reading

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What the lower levels of the steamboat lacked in class and the strict social order of the upper money-grabbers of the social elite, it more than made up for in volume, enjoyment and oddities. Richard too noticed the snake-duo, giving Faye a quick look before watching the snake slither around the women to the sound of the music. "Looks like it. Last time I saw anything like that, an old lady thought it was going to eat her dog. They're harmless, at least like that." Richard assured Faye, before she answered him about her background. That was the cue for him to be quiet, listen and enjoy his first meal of the day.

The food and beer was better than expected, but then again how low had his expectatins been when he first took that job? Probably lower than a working girl's standars on a cold December night in Time Square during Mass, but hey it was better than eating out of a dumbster. While Faye began to tell her story, Richard combined his eating and listening with looking around. For what? People with less than good intentions, so to say. Who knew what types of people roamed that Deck, and how attractive Faye and Richard might have seen to someone looking for a quick buck. But his bad-guy scanning provided nothing, perhaps due to his attention being drawn back to what Faye told him.

"You mean that she was your sister? The so-called Devil Murder?" Richard knew that he was stating the obvious with his question, but he had read about that murder when it first happened. Gruesome affair it was, even if it possibly couldn't be true devil worship. Having finished his plate and most of his beer, Richard pulled out a cigarette and searched for a quick way to light it. A candle to his right would suffice, and he turned back to Faye now with a lit cigarette in his mouth. Was it getting hot in there? Probably the spicy food.

"It's okay. I'm sorry about her, Faye. Like you say, it's probably more to it than simple Devil worship if she had her wits about her. Probably not anything occult though, just some frantic way of trying to lead the police on a wild goose chase. Damn good one too, gave them more tricks than a car full of monkeys." Richard suggested as he finished his beer and took another drag of his burning cigarette. But damn it felt warmer than usual, and more smoking too. What Richard failed miserably to notice was the fact that his right sleeve was on fire from the candle. Liar, liar, sleeve's on fire!

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski

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Location: Quincy : Inside house (G9 -> D7)
Skills: N/A

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With Manny finally awake, up and running, Alexander was feeling more confident that the Thalia-situation was getting under control. Somehow. Sometime. And he agreed with Manny's conclusion in regards to Thana, at least half-way. "That's true, but being out there in the dark is never a good idea. Trust me, been there, done that." Alexander said back to Manny, following behind him halfway to the table before turning in another direction. "Go check on our Angel. I'll check the rest of the house for...something. Shout if you need me."

Alexander limped through the house the next hour, his search changing as he made his way through the house. At first he wasn't looking for anything special, but the never-ending sound of THUMP THUD THUMP THUD was starting to get to him. Or perhaps more the thought of him moving so slowly and awkwardly through the house, one step away from falling over like he was some old retiree, of which he wasn't anymore. That's when he started to look for tools and materials. He wanted to make a crutch.

His search for tools fared considerably better than that for materials. Tools he found enough of in the garage, but the house lacked the needed materials to make something sturdy enough to support his weight. He had made it back to the living room with the three others when he realized where to find materials; they were in the middle of an area of construction projects left, right and center. That only meant that it was best to wait until morning, considering the wind was still kicking harder than a Bazooka. Limping to the outwards kitchen counter and slowly sliding down to rest, Alexander brushed the sweat from his frown and looked at the last people he knew to be alive in that world. "Still no can-opener in this house? Use a strong knife, works like magic."

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Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper

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Location: Okefenokee: C8 -> C9 -> C7
Skills: Survival, Scavenging

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While the rest of the group - could they call themselves that by now, a group? They had fought together, sure, but none of them had made it clear to stick together more than they needed. -were prepared to leave Robert, or his body if he was truly dead, Nigel felt it was wrong to do that. Had it been a group of walkers around him, then doing what he was doing now was as stupid as attacking an enemy who's army was built around cavalry while your army was only infantry. But they were out of danger now, so Nigel ignored Wayne's Jesus-comment and gave Erica a quick look before jogging past her towards Robert. "I will check him first. Then I might join."

Nigel "Hadrian" could quickly see what he had already been told, but was doubtful to believe. Robert was indeed dead, with the obvious wound to his head that Erica suggested she'd done. Nigel kneeled down beside his short-lived companion, taking a moment to just look at him and...he didn't know, pray or something? Even if he didn't believe in that himself, he realized the importance of respecting others faith and ways. Especially his students. But he started to just as quickly search his body. He was loyal, but hardened. Robert didn't need his stuff anymore, but they did.

Nigel took what he wanted in Robert's Swissgear backpack, filling it with the Smith & Wesson pistol, the ammunition, the cans of food, duct tape and light sticks. But as Nigel rose up to leave Robert, he looked at him one last time and forced a small smile. "Keep the chips, Robert. I'll be fine." Nigel said quietly to someone who had tried to be his friend, before making his way back to the others with the things he'd taken off Robert. "Thanks to Robert, we don't have to eat bugs at that fishing camp. Now we just need water..."

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Mahendra Huq Zalil

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Location: Second Deck (Personal Cabin)
Skills: N/A

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The dream continued to swurl around his Mahendra's head as he was still fast asleep in his bed, changing from one dream into another with a seamless transition that only made sense in a state of sleep. The burning heat of the Sinai-desert was slowly but sure replaced by the less hot air of a military hospital. It was still in Egypt, his bed neighbours were still soldiers, but the sounds of artilley, gunfire and screaming had changed to the usual sounds of a hospital. Chattering between nurses, soldiers and doctors, people playing cards or shuffling in their beds due to itchy bandages, and himself lying motionless in his own bed. His own father, pale as a ghost but with a smile on his face stood beside Mahendra, comforting him while an officer from his regiment told him the impossible; his father was dead. Mahendra couldn't understand it as he was standing right there, comforting him. What was true? Was he then himself dead? His father comforted him, even as he faded from existance, and a soft voice told him not to worry.

The dream shifted scene once again, now to an even colder climate as the Bengali son of a poor trader in Kolkata who had never travelled far from his home, now saw the smoke rising tall in the distant horizon. Ships of countless sizes and designs sailed to and from them, as themselves sailed towards the coast. England, the heart of an empire that was as eternal as the moon and stars. This was his future now. Mahendra, in his dream, both smiled and showed concern as he packed himself tighter in a coat that was obviously too big for him. He was so far away from home, but perhaps this could give him a better future there? Soon he would step out onto proper British soil for the first time, and embrace what his future had in store. But all the people he could see from the ship were grey and obscured, and no-one said a word. Or if they did, he didn't understand them. Or did they not understand him?

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Richard Barker

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Location: Lower Deck (Dining Area)
Location: N/A

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"It's probably okay enough to drink, if it's the same water served on all decks of the ship. But if you start to feel sick, you know the drill." Richard answered Faye's question about the water, while he himself was personally setting his sunglass-less eyes set on the beer on the table. But first, the various bits and bobs of food. He recognized several dishes of Egyptian street food from his time as a street cop back in Little Egypt; Kushari, Falafels, Kofta, you name it. Even if the New York Egyptians had their own variants, made with American ingredients, the smells rang true to his bandaged nose. Too bad they didn't have any Greek food, he'd like a small pot of souvlaki. The detective grabbed a few foods onto his plate, enough to fill his nicotine-filled stomach, before grabbing a beer.

"Good girl, you're starting to learn. But one glass is good." The beer looked okay enough, better than most speakeasies had to offer in the various hidden joints that he wasn't supposed to know about, and certainly not go to. But in all honesty, he missed the taste of a good beer. "That's one thing I gotta give to'em; they still serve beer in this country. Say what you want about 'The Destructive Effects of the Devil's Drink', but outlawing it was a stupid move by stupid men in the top that still drink it like the rest of us, just behind their back while lying to everyone else."

Richard made his way over to a bench and table where there were resonably enough space for Faye and him to sit. Sitting down on the bench and putting his plate and glass down on the table, he looked around to show Faye where he was sitting, while making sure no-one else took her spot. It was like the subway or bus during rush-hour; it was a fight of life and death, only with seats. "Say Faye, you never told me how you got cooked up in the whole 'supernatural' business, did you? What made you believe in ghosts?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski

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Location: Quincy : Inside house (C8 -> G9)
Skills: N/A

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Thalia was high as a G.I. after having his first experience with high-quality army morphin after just getting shot by a VC from behind, that much was a 10-4. But she was at the very least able to work her drugged-down brain into drinking her bottle of water and realizing she needed a can-opener for her can of O's. It was better than her trying to open it with her teeth or fingers, not being affected as much by the pain as she was. Though she was sweating, like all of them were sweating. The water helped a little, but it only gave comfort and didn't solve their problem. Alexander looked back over to Beatrice after Thalia had given her approval of her table, but didn't manage to say anything before Thalia had started to...undress...what?

"...Ehm, Thalia? Beatrice, can you...?"

Now Alexander had seen his fair share of non-clothed women through his adult life. Those magazines he would peak at alongside his teenage friends with women of dubious repuations, his first girlfriend, the pictures he brought to Vietnam, traded for down there and sometimes ladies of the night when he was really down, and of course his...his wife. Alexander glanced at her only for the brifest of moments, before looking away and leaving Beatrice to take care of her. Alexander limped over to Manny, the only other man in the house as it seemed as it was time for him to wake up. Alex couldn't help her either way, she was too heavy for his one leg.

"Manny, you awake? Gotten a good rest, have you?" Alexander asked as he rested himself against the wall and looked down at Manny. "Thana still hasn't come back, so it's still just the four of us here. And I think you probably should take another look at Thalia soon." He said the first part as if that was the least of their problems, but Alexander felt that lump in his throat that he'd felt so many times before. If she didn't come back soon, it would be dark. That was if she would ever come back, or was alive. But the old grunt knew that panic would only worsen the situation, and so tried to keep as calm as he could. Even if Thalia was sprawled out on the floor.

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Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper

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Location: Okefenokee: C7 -> C8
Skills:

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As soon as it had commenced, the skirmish that Wayne had dragged them into had finally ended with a victory for the living and a defeat for the undead. With Hank taking out the last walker with his Parthian cavalry charge, fittingly now called "Shovel Knight" in Nigels head, the Neo-Roman soldier let down his shoulders and weapons in a moment of brief calm, catching his breath and wiping the sweat that was running like a waterfall from his face. Or was that just the moisture from the swamp? Only the Gods knew. "That Hank, I can agree to. The place I held up in is a not an option now, so let's keep moving forward. Maybe our new acquaintance knows somewhere..."

Nigel "Hadrian" had started to turn around while he spoke, but his words ceased to continue once he too noticed what Wayne the Vulgar had noticed. Where was Robert? "A seizure? Just like that?" Nigel questioned Erica, not quite understanding how that could have happened so fast. A few moments earlier he had seemed quite fine enough considering the circumstances. Even offered him a bag of chips. Erika did say that she knew of a place they could rest up, but Nigel was still having his doubts. This was happening so quickly. "...Hold your chariot, I'm going to check Robert first."

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Mahendra Huq Zalil

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Location: Second Deck (Personal Cabin)
Skills: N/A

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The Bengali geologist, far far away from his native homeland and still a fair distance away from the sort of location his occupation normally would guide him towards, was still sweating as he lay in his bed. In a matter of minutes, his closed eyes were no longer closed on command but instead closed in restful sleep that a man of his current circumstances were duly deserving. Who knew how long he would be like this? Certainly long enough to miss the certainly filling dishes that the rest of their fellowship were to soon enjoy. And if Lauren was as kind as Mahendra was under the impression of, perhaps he too could enjoy their meals, just a little delayed. Hopefully they would have something not containing cattle, or else he'd be more than happy with a normal sandwich. But that was not on his mind right then, but more urgent matters. Matters of life and death.

In his sweat- and pain induced dream-state, he was still in the desert of Egypt, but not in the area surrounding Cairo. The sun was scorching everything it set upon, including the large line of entrenchments and soldiers in it. Defending it. Defending what? Mahendra was there, then the Sepoy Zalil of the 11th Indian Divison, defending the Suez-Canal from the advancing Ottoman forces. The orders were clear, to stop them from taking control of one of the many lifelines of the British Empire and critical supply route to the entire European Theatre of war. Good for them, they already knew when and where the Ottomans were coming. But it was still bloody.

Mahendra wouldn't be sure if his dream was an accurate representation of the actual battle, but the main themes were there. He was there, both of them were there; He and the Turk. Mahendra stood up from his position in the trenches to look at the incoming soldiers charging them. From his back they was given the order to open fire, and so they did. Mahendra hesitated, staring down his rifle's sight at a man that could barely be any older than him. The order was given again, but again no shot rang from his rifle. Aagin he was told to start shooting by his English commanding officer, and now he had no choice. He pulled the trigger with closed eyes, but they opened just in time to see the soldier get hit and stumble forward.

His first kill in a line of many through that war, but on he'd rather forget.

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Richard Barker

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Location: Lower Deck (Dining Area)
Location: N/A

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"Oh yes, you persist. That much is true." Richard had to pull his cheek into a small smile at her observation of the 20t century's women. Richard wasn't sure where he stood on the whole "Women's Liberation"-thing. Sure, some ladies had more than enough backbone to prove their worth and be compared to even the President of the United States, and for those women he had all the respect in the world. But then there were the women who used their new-won freedom to take advantage of men with soft hearts or ambitions of their own, and then turn around just to stab them in the back. There probably was a word for that, and it was probably something in French. His own ex-wife probably fit into the bill. Faye on the other hand, she was more of the first. Even if she just kept talking like most women did.

"Be careful what you say. Before you know it, one of us or both get a serious case of food-poisoning. If they served meat of dubious quality and origin back in New York, I'm sure it can happen here too." Richard cautioned Faye as he too eyed the buffet table. There were large assortments of food there, ready for the lower-class passengers to dig into like the doves in Central Park. Who knew if they served pigeons here? "If it tastes funny, reconsider what you're having to eat. If it tastes normal, still reconsider." Richard continued as he made his way towards the buffet, starting to feel his stomach growling. He hadn't eaten breakfast after all, or anything else for that matter he thought? Only cigarettes and cynical comments about this foreign land. Grabbing a plate and starting to put a small assortment of Egyptian cuisine on the platter. "Beer or water, Faye?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski

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Location: Quincy : Inside house (B6 - C8)
Skills: N/A

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It was good that they were still planning on what to do, even if the planning revolved around staying put where they already where and licking their wounds. No wait, it was exactly what they should be doing. Going into battle fatigued, low on supplies and without intel was a sure way to give Charlie a very good day of fighting. Yes, staying there for a little while longer was probably their best bet. Alexander, taking some time to get back up on his foot and cane, was going to jokingly tell Manny how Thana probably would bring the navy instead of the army, and how he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. But as the old veteran got to look over the counter, he saw Manny fast asleep against the wall. He couldn't blame him. Their medic had just done a very brutal surgery, and needed the rest.

"Yeah sure, give me a second." Alexander said to Beatrice, asking for a bottle of water. He managed to place three bottles tucked underneath his right arm, and started to limp over to her and Thalia on the table. Why was she still lying there, and not in a comfortable bed or couch? Alexander put the three bottles down on the table, one for each of them. "Here you go, you two." he said, leaning against the table in order to more freely use both his hands as he opened one bottle for Thalia and one for himself. "Don't drink too fast. These things don't grow on trees." Alexander continued, bowing his head forward and quietly giving a short prayer over his bottle of water, before taking a sip.

"What do you think, Bea?" Alexander started to ask Beatrice, beginning to button down his shirt and roll up the sleeves, just in order to get some better ventilation going. Somehow he missed the combat clothing they had back in 'Nam, at least that was meant for those temperatures. "You think we can get her a better place to lay?" he asked, turning his head to look at Thalia with a heavy smile, and not in a wholy good way. "What'ya say, Angel? Sleeping on a table isn't the most comfortable thing I can imagine?"

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Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper

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Location: Okefenokee: C8 -> C7
Skills: Sword fighting, Shield fighting

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If the group up front was anything but unlike each other in so many ways, at least one thing bound them together was their abilities to fight. Stepping over the body of the undead minion of death and apocalypse, Nigel did take note of Wayne piercing the walker's head with his machete and taking it out, and Hank nearly literally helping one dig its own grave. They were unorthodox, but it worked. Then again he was far from your stereotypical image of a survivor of the End-Times. Perhaps they were more alike than he thought?

Hank's insult to the undead was understable enough, even if it was a little uncivilized? Rome conqured the world through fighting, not throwing dirt on their enemies, but he saw where he was coming from in moderate amounts. Wayne on the other hand, that was another matter. Nigel "Hadrian" threw him a look of mixed irritation and...no, it was annoying. "...It is not a skirt..." Nigel said sternly back to Wayne after he'd asked...someone, the aforementioned "Glitterfuck" or whatever it was called, before advancing towards another walker. Nigel made the walker grab onto the shield, stearing it sideways and then coming from behind with his sword as he threw the undead fighter to the ground. But a stab in the back wasn't enough, so the next strike came to its head, finishing the job.

"It is a tunic. Completely different thing." Nigel continue to educate Wayne, taking up his fighting stance again as he looked at the last walker. One more to go, and maybe then they could finish up with their strategic bad position.