ONL

Do You Wanna Build A Roleplay? |Partner Request|

@MissIndependent Greetings and salutations! Your new plot wouldn't happen to be the "Lady Luck" plot of yours, because that might just have caught my interest. Would you be so kind as to PM me if you're interested as well? Thanks ^^

PXO: Alpha Academy

Bentley

Character Name: Bentley
Title: The Brains
Kingdom: Federation of Sucker Punch Productions & Sanzaru Games

Visual Description:

Written Description:
Bentley is a human-sized turtle of green colour, wearing large glasses, a pith hat and a bulletproof vest alongside knee- and elbow-protectors. He used to stand 4 feet tall, not the most impressive sight in the world, but after the tragic events of Clock-la's defeat and his crippled legs, he now moves around in a heavily modified wheelchair. Overall he is not recognized for his physical feats, which thankfully never was his strong suit anyway.

Personality:
Before Bentley was only the shy, introvert and frightened turtle that only made the plans, never putting them into action. Since those days however, Bentley has become more of an hand-on person daring to do his part in a mission. He's still scared, of course, and likely to question the merit of going all-in, though his confidence has been boosted seriously since his first schemes. He's very intelligent and quick-thinking, even throwing in dry humour sometimes.

Game:
Sly Cooper series

Current Story:
After the dissapperance of Sly, Bentley vowed never to stop looking for his best friend. So far however, the trail has been cold as it was from the very start, even for The Brain. Clues lead nowhere, reported sightings of him were proven wrong, even Carmelita's search was in vain. That was when the Letter arrived. Bentley, as always, had been hard at work in the gang's HQ, when a knock came from the window. Bentley's heart was beating like splitting atoms at the thought of it being Sly, but it was…someone else. Another turtle, flying on a tiny cloud, delivered a letter before flying away.

Bentley, hoping it was from Sly, couldn't wait for Murray or the rest of the gang before he ripped the seal open - safely with a pen knife, of course - and read it. It said nothing about Sly, but spoke of the Mugen Virus, threatening to destroy not only the universe, but several of them. Time travel was by now an established reality for Bentley, but pararal universes? It couldn't be ruled out, not mathematically. Perhaps this was a way, The Way to get Sly back? Bentley wasted no time finding his old equipment and putting it on, before writing a quick note for the others to read. It would have to be explaination enough, there was no time to lose! Wearing his pith hat, bulletproof vest, thick glasses and sitting comfortably in his wheelchair, he pressed the big 'Yes' on the button

Weapon(s)

Bomb (Regular) - Bentley's speciality in combat is his self-made bombs. Small and handy, they are also deadly, even for their size. This ones have to be placed by hand, and have a timer.

Wheelchair batons - When activated, two batons are extended from the wheel-base of his wheelchair. Bentley's can use these to whack an enemy by spinning his wheelchair around itself quickly, doing moderate damage.

Sleep Darts - Pulling up his Binocucom and aiming at an enemy, Bentley fires a dart at said enemy. Upon contact, the dart injects a powerful serum that puts the victim to sleep. Bentley has also used them for other purposes, like setting fireworks on fire or knocking down various objects.

Stat.

Level Three

(P)Damage 2

(P)Defense 3

(M)(E)Damage 5

(M)(E)Defense 7

Dexterity 3

XP ////////// ////////// ////////// (0/30)

Squad: Alpha

General Abilities

Robot arms - These robotic arms are attached to Bentley's wheelchair, and are able to extend between two to four meters. Mostly used for the usual pick-pocketing that comes with being in a gang of thieves, they are sure to have several other uses that the turtle can think of.

Hover Pack: Level 1 - Integrated into his highly-technological marvel of a wheelchair, Bentley has installed rocket boosters to help him get into positions easier. This level of booster helps Bentley jump a normal height jump, and assist him in hovering down to the ground safely.

Special Abilities
Slot One.

Items

Slot One.
Slot Two.
Slot Three.

Strengths

Polymath - In general Bentley is a master in several scientific degrees, as well as non-scientific fields such as opera and art. As long as he can use his brain, he can probably do it.

Master planner - Bentley sees the importance of every little detail in a plan. He personally planned most, if not all of the gang's operations since their first plot to steal cookies, to robbing Sly's family vault and not to mention going back in time. He has an extraordinary ability to figure out what plans are crucial to a plan, and what can be left out.

Tech-wiz - Bentley loves technology, and the same could be say vice versa. His wheelchair is rolling proof of that, with gizmos and gadgets in plenty to spare. Give Bentley a computer, and he'll give you everything you need to know before you can say "These codes are nothing before my righteous analytical ability!"

Analytichical - Plans don't always go according to plan, and that possibility requires a sharp mind and quick thinking to get the plan back on track. This too Bentely has, alongside a keen eye to analyzing threats, enemies, risks, etc. on the spot.

Weaknesses

Bound to wheelchair - For all of Bentely's mental capabilities, he's still a turtle stuck to a wheelchair. He hasn't been able to walk for years, let alone run and do anything of that kind. He's as mobile and agile as his wheelchair allows him, which can depend entirely on the mission.

Low self-esteem - Feeling good enough has been Bentley's greatest burden all his life. Compared to Sly he's not stealthy nor agile, and compared to Murray he's weak and a coward. Even for his growth in character the past years, he's still got a long way before he can feel adequate enough around others 'better' than him.

Bad eye-sight - He's a turtle with glasses. Really thick glasses. Is there much else to say?

Achievements

Cole Phelps, LAPD Detective

Character Name: Cole Phelps
Title: Detective

Kingdom: Rockstar
Visual Description:

Hider

Written Description: An average male human being from the land of the lat 1940's Los Angeles, Cole Phelps stands at 5 feet, 8 inches and is as always sporting as always a respectable set of clothes as he works his way through his cases. A two-piece or three-piece suit of various colours and shapes, a fedora and approriate shoes, Phelps looks like an ordinary American. Currently in the Crossover-Universe, Phelp sports a grey three-piece suit, white shirt with a black and grey fedora on his head.

Personality:
Phelps has, or had one main priority working in the LAPD; Serve the city, protect its citizens and solve the cases given to him. He tries to do the right thing, by the book and in a way that serves the city best. That might however involve ruffing up and yelling at possibly suspects, doubting their comments or genuinly showing compassion and understanding for them. Criminals, liars and backstabbing people of higher positions has no place in the world to him, but first they have to be proven guilty of that.

At the same time, Phelps is a very troubled man. He's seen quite a lot in his life, death, ruined lives because of drugs or love, and he carries that with him.

Game: L.A. Noire

Current Story:
It was the end of the road. Cole Phelps, Jack Kelso and the others had managed to find the lair belonging to the man responsible for the house fires that had plauged LA so viciuously, and take care of the goons of corrupt police commisioner as they seperatly gunned their way through the sewers. Having saved Elsa and put the killer out of his misery, the group made it out of the sewers. Almost. Cole was the last one down there when the water came rushing in, forcing the realization that he was about to die. Giving a last goodbye to the others, Cole was quickly taken away by the rushing water and drowned. He was dead. They even had a funural, casket and eulogy.

That's why Cole was surprised to wake up alive and well. He wasn't in LA anymore though, as his presence was needed one last time before he went to the final sleep. A case, one to save the gaming universe from immenent destruction. It was strange, unthinkable even as nothing made sense. But always the good case-man that he was, Cole Phelps was on it.

Weapon(s):

.45 Colt 1911 Pistol - Standard issue sidearm for the US Marine Corps. Does moderate damage, but has low ammunition capacity and relativly short range. Good against common criminals, but not so optimal against gangsters or soldiers.

Stat.

Level One

(P)Damage 2
(P)Defense 2
(M)(E)Damage 1
(M)(E)Defense 2
Dexterity 3
0%
XP ////////// (0/10)
Squad: Alpha

General Abilities

Lvl. 1 "Truth, Doubt or Lie"

One of Phelps' superior abilities that made him stick out to the top brass, is his ability to interview/interrogate witnesses and suspects to get the truth out. Using this ability, Phelps interacts with one specific target to iniate an interview; three options appear in front of him and is visible for people to see. "Truth", "Doubt" and "Lie". Based on current evidence and the look on the target's face, Phelp's will determine whether or not they're telling the truth, hiding something or outright lying. Picking the right course of action, Phelps's either gets the truth out of his target or a critical blow to their defense. Picking the wrong option, however, gives him a setback.

Special Abilities
Slot One.

Items

Slot One.
Slot Two.
Slot Three.
Strengths

Observant - Detective Phelps has a keen eye for details that most others would miss. The small pool of blood leaking from under the door, the throw-away matchbox with the adress to the victim's bar, look in someone's eye when they tell you a lie, he can see it.

Good Case-Man - Seeing details is however only half the job; To truly become a good case-man, one of the Department's best, you have to put those pieces of information into a context. Murder, kidnapping, robbery, all different contexts with different outcomes according to the evidence. And Cole Phelps is pretty good at piecing those clus together. Made him a big hero to the papers.

Weapons Expert - As both a veteran of the Pacific theatre and of the LAPD, Cole Phelps has become skilled in the use of various weapons that can be found around him. Pistols, rifles, shotguns, automatic rifles and submachine guns, you name it.

Athletic - What's there to say? The LAPD detective has proven to be able to chase criminals on-foot for prolonged chases down dark alleys, up drainage pipes, and to put up a good fist-fight with various people resisting arrest.

Weaknesses

Only human - For all the achivements Detective Cole Phelps had achived through his life and career, he is still just an ordinary guy in 1947's Los Angeles. Bullets and getting run over by a car can still kill him, and he needs food, sleep and the rest of Mazlow's pyramid.

Guilt-ridden - Cole might appear to be the shining star of the LAPD (at least before his affair with Elsa Lichtmann), but behind the shining medal and newspaper headlines, lies a dark past that very few people know about. Cole did some bad things during the war which rightly so could be deemed a war-crime. He regrets the decision with his life, and is reluctant to let the past repeat itself. Especially after coming back to life, if you could call it that? Adding his affair against and divorce from his wife and children, he's got a lot of bagage to carry.

"You drive. I've got to go over the casenotes." - Cole can't drive. No seriously, he can't. Have you seen him drive down the streets of LA with his partners? It ain't a pretty sight to behold, and Cole would rather let someone else drive the car for him. It's for the best. And really, going over the casenotes is important.

Achievements

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski

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Location: Quincy : Inside house (F6)
Skills: None

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What did Alexander usually dream about? Unlike the pretty sight of Judith standing with her husband and making sure he was safe from himself, his dreams were usually far worse. He cherished the nights he didn't dream at all, and the nights he did dream he spent the better parts of the morning ensuring himself they were just that; dreams. Not because they weren't true, because they were, but because it happened so long ago. Images burned into his eyes as clear as day, forever tormenting him for what he did and didn't do. So tonight was different, but why? Was it the relative safety they had inside that house, or just an exhausted old Mugsy finally passing out? If Alexander had been aware of this, he would have told you to shut up and let him enjoy his sleep.

But the old veteran wasn't aware of his dreaming slumber until he felt something rousing him. Or someone. "..Huh?..." Alexander grumbled out of his sleep, opening his eyes ever so slightly to see who it was. It was Beatrice, which pushed the gears in his head back into gear. "What's the..oh right, my turn. Give me a moment..." Alexander said less groggly to Bea, pushing himself off the floor and leaning up against the wall in order to wake up more. He looked at the two other sleeping figures, Thalia and Manny, wondering what they were dreaming about and if Thalia was feeling the pain in her sleep. "Anything to report, Bea?"

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Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper

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Location: Okefenokee: F8 (Fishing Camp inside) -> B7
Skills: Sword fighting, Smithing

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Nigel "Hadrian" had been wandering around the shop-area since picking up the tin box, walking back and forth it would seem while examining his booties of war - something even the Neo-Roman hadn't been expected of him to think, much less say out loud. But Nigel was half-listening to the conversations going on around him in the building. He had to give that to Hank, he had a flashlight in a time and age where batteries were getting rarer than Roman victories against the Parthians, and was conservative about using it. Nigel could approve of that.

His focus was more aimed at Wayne however as he spoke directly to him, and the tin box itself of course. Wandering back to the loose floorboards he had pulled it out from, Nigel shot a look back at Wayne as he offered to tie him a noose. "...Not right now, but I'll be sure to ask you first if the need arises, Wayne." Nigel "Hadrian" answered Wayne's offer, putting on the face of a teacher who had just gotten an answer so stupid that he didn't dare point directly, instead nodding in agreement that it was a good answer, but not the right one. It happens more than you think. But turning back to the box, Nigel picked up his Gladius and focused on the lock of the box. Erika had a point. Why not just break it open? How much use would they have for a tin box really?

Nigel started hitting the lock of the box with the pummel of his sword, giving it a good wack as he heard Erika ask one of the usual 'Let's get to know each-other' questions. "West-Coast, Washington." Nigel answered before either of the loud-mouths had the oppertunity to throw in another witty comment about ancient Rome and Greece. Who knew what they would have answered for him? But Nigel refrained from going into more specifics than the state. It was a habit, be careful what one told others. Hence his use of the name "Hadrian". As he finished his answer, Nigel heard the sound of the lock cracking open and off the box, leaving him to find out what was in it.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Robert Adler

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Location: Chicago (Grimaldi Books)
Skills: Law

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Well the older one of the men, Mr. Gonzales, wasn't giving a whole lot more information than what he had already told them. Technically it was Adelaide that was the primary particapent of the subject of murder and ex-husbands, but since Robert had been pulled in by ID-checking and by the virtue of just being there, he felt he wanted some info himself. But the mention of a so-called group called "Juno" didn't ring any bells in Robert's head. Wenthworth Security? That did ring.

He'd heard about them before, which wasn't much of a surprise considering his occupation. Contacting and cross-checking with security was normal procedure to find evidence of foul play. And Wenthworth was one of the big players in the field of security, national and worldwide actually. Adelaide using them for security in her store wasn't waving any red flags to him, except to ask them for the tapes of the store in an effort to see if the thieves was caught on tape. The fact that Wenthworth was in the unwilling process of losing badly to competing security firms didn't stand out that much to him either. It was the Englishman's attitude towards them that made Robert cross his arms and give the man an inquisitive look.

"What do you mean by "facilitating murder", Mr...?" Richard began his question, turning to Adelaide for a moment as he asked her "Did you get the tapes for those cameras checked after the robbery? Might be fruitful to take a look if anyone hasn't yet." Richard turned back to Keystone and Caesar, looking waitingly for them to continue explaining. Somehow he felt like he was in a crime movie or something, the pauses between the pieces of exposition coming to light feeling longer than they probably were. "I've got to ask, because I'm not following you. The connection between those murders is a group called Juno? What's Juno then? The murderers or...what??"

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

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Mahendra Huq Zalil

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Location: Main Deck (Open Air Lounge)
Skills:

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Walking down the stairs he and Lauren had a few hours earlier ascended, Mahendra found himself once again on the main deck of the steamboat. It looked the same as he thought it had when he was half-awake around the table amongst the Fellowship, although it was considerably less people crowding the deck. That was a breath of fresh air for him, although he was not as relaxed as he'd ought to be after a good nap. The Woman he was following walked with elegance across the deck and over to the railing, to which Mahendra followed. Fate was leading him to her for some reason, it had to be!

Mahendra walked more steadily than he had earlier, making his way past people passing him as he too stood against the railing. The boat floated on the water, gently moving with every force counteracting it, making Mahendra hold the railing as to steady himself. The woman spoke, Mahendra thought to him for the lack of other people standing with her, making him look at her with her red fingernails, pale skin and dark eyes; No longer red, but yet a fine dark colour. "I would have to agree, my dear lady, perhaps second or third. Although I have to admit that there are worse places to spend your evening on. No? I mean, Egypt managed to pull me back to her beauty twice in my life now." Mahendra said casually back to the woman in his thick Bengali accent, looking up from the water passing below him and up to the open sky, to where only Gods could go.

Mahendra looked at the lady for a moment, giving her a polite smile as he tried to take the situation into mind while continuing the conversation. "May I be so bold as to ask what brings you to these parts of the world, Miss...?" As he looked away and behind him casually, all was as it was meant to be behind him. But turning back again to the railing and the woman, he noticed her posture - in a most gentlemanly way, mind you, no drooling or anything of that sort. She was holding perfectly still up against the railing, in contrast to the others that passed them as the boat moved forward on the water. How was she seemingly not affected by it? Mahendra looked quickly away from her, stroking his moustache as he swallowed a big portion of disbelief. Who was she?

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Richard Barker

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Location: Main Deck (Open Air Lounge)
Skills: Observation, People-reading, Deduction

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"At least we can agree on something then. May I?" Richard replied to Franklin's statements of the weather and such and such, having figured that he'd get the response he got. Pointing to an empty seat beside him, Richard didn't want for a Yes or No as he sat down alongside him, placing his trusted fedora on the armrest and leaning back to enjoy his cigarette. But really, Richard was working. He was always working, like the ticking clocks of The Big City that slaved for its inhabitants to tell them the time. For him it was time to do what he was good at.

"Ah, I see. Completely understable, Franklin." Richard placed the cheap cigarette between his lips and filled his lungs with nicotine-filled smoke, looking empty into the air in front of him as if just enjoying a stroll in Central Park. Exhaling with the cigarette resting on his dry lip, The Detective looking to Franklin with a thoughtful look, though the hint of a smile visible too. "Thing is that I did ask, and in my experience when people don't like to share, it means it's pretty good stuff. You know what I mean? But you may be right, it may or not be any of my business." Richard said, watching the man's every movement in his face, wrinkles and nosehairs and all, trying to crack the mystery behind the face. Nothing came to him as he followed the man's finger towards Faye, and Richard looked back at the man. "Then again, who I'm with aren't much of your business either, Franklin. But hey, just means we're the same two mice on the sinking ship."

Richard took another good drag from his cigarette clamped like a snitch between the Feds and the Mob, placing it back between his fingers and resting that hand on the armrest, flicking off the ash accumulated on it. Keeping Frankling away from Faye, as the question about her implied, was important for Richard, so he would have to get back on track. Perhaps getting a drink too, it was getting hot again. A weird sense of déjà vu tried to kick open the door in the back of his mind, but Richard focused on his man. "As to why I'm talking to you, let's just say that journal of yours peaked my interest. In my line of work, I've learned to follow that. So where did you get it?"

Once again Richard, however tough or professional he was, failed spectacularly to notice his sleeve. It was on fire. AGAIN. Faith was a cruel mistress, wasn't she?

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski

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Location: Quincy : Inside house (F6)
Skills: None

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They had their guard-scehdule all set up, their cozy corners to sleep in and a fire crackling in the fireplace. Had it been somewhere above the Maxon-Dixon line, it could have counted as a pleasent trip to the outdoors in the cold winter. But since it was still in Florida, it was still swealtering inside. But Alexander was too tired to give a rat's ass about that, he'd slept in worse condition before. At least there weren't any charlies scouting their perimiter or boobytraps to maim yourself on in here. Alexander lay on the folded bed sheet and let his eyes wander across the room in front of him, and the people inhabiting it. Manny, Thalia, Beatrice, but not Thana. No Navy Blue, ma'am to give orders and keep them alive. As his eyes closed and all became a dark velvet over him, Alexander prayed quietly for her safe passage through the night. Only God and Thana herself could keep her alive now...

Where was Alexander travelling off to in his state of dreams, if not in the same overheated oven of a house in the Floridian panhandle? Still in Florida, further east and south as a matter of fact. Alexander was certain of this, he was too aware in his dream not to recognize the never ending Atlantic ocean to his east and the long Miami coastline to his west. South he and the passangers on his and Judith's boat had only left blood, death and misery. And walkers, lots of them. They were sailing north, searching for safe land to anchor up against, but everytime the old veteran sailed closer he knew he was in danger, each and every time. So he sailed on, again and again. Looking around his boat, once his pride and joy when he wasn't selling electronic bits and bobs, was now bloody and full of sea-sick souls that trusted their lives in his hands. Why? Sometimes he didn't even trust himself to take care of him. Too often really.

Judith was his pillar of support. He didn't miss her, because she was there. In his dream she was just as beautiful as the day he had met her outside the New England convinience store back in the 70's. Just as beautiful as the last day they had spent together, alive. In the mortal plane of the awake, Alexander 'Mugsy' snored like the old man he was, but alive.

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Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper

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Location: Okefenokee: B6 (Fishing Camp inside) -> F8
Skills: Scavenging, Survival

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"Nice find, just be sure to be..." Nigel had begun to say back to Erika as she explained what she had found. An attic, which in those times and circumstances could provide a fine enough shelter if it had an easily available escape-route if shit hit the fan-slave. But before he had finished his sentence, Wayne had attempted to climb up the staircase. Nigel thought it looked safe enough, but the collapse and fall of the stairs - including the climbing Wayne - put a quick stop to those thoughts. For a moment there he questioned whether Wayne was alive or not after such a fall, but the subsequent words about a mother and him being okay, Nigel rose up from his short rest against the wall.

Since Erika wanted the help of Hank to continue her search, and Nigel still wasn't sure whether it was a good idea or not to approach Wayne when he was like that, the neo-roman went back to the creaking floorboards from earlier. All roads lead back to Rome they said. The floorboards were easy enough to pull out, though he'd wish he had a crowbar instead. Reverse renovation was not something he wanted to occupy himself with when it was getting dark outside, but perhaps it payed off? Once he had pulled up some, Nigel saw something hidden underneath the floor they had been walking unknowing on. A box, a tin box with a lock on it. Not food or water mind you, but it was something. If anything, his curiosity was peaked even more. Picked it up out of the hole, Nigel held it up and looked at it. Nothing special, just a normal tin box. But why hide this out of all things? "Hey, anybody good with opening locks?"

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Robert Adler

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Location: Chicago (Grimaldi Books)
Skills: Research

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"Don't mind if I do." Robert was more than happy to inspect the ID one of the security guys had given Adelaide, walking up her and taking the card as he looked back and forth from it and the two men. Big men, probably knew how to throw a punch if they so wanted to. The card in itself didn't stick out to Robert in any way. Mostly it was because he wasn't trained in spotting fake IDs like some bouncer outside an 18+ nightclub, but from he knew it looked real enough. But there were more ways of fooling people.

It didn't take long for the Insurance Fraud man to pull up his phone and start typing in the browser. It would be wise to confirm that such a company as "Machete Security Solutions", something even Robert hadn't about before. Even before Mr. Gonzalez had finished his suggestion for what to search for, Robert had found his confirmation. There was indeed such a security company that lined up with what he was seeing with his two own eyes in the two men. But before he could interject his analysis between Adelaide and Gonzalez, the British guy - his accent a clear surprise to Robert, bursted out his enthusiasm for Adelaide's security.

When he was done, Robert gave Adelaide a look with a raised brow, handing back the ID. "It's legit, both the card and the website." He told her, walking back to the table and his cup of coffee that he wanted to enjoy. Not easy with the two machete-guys in the store. "It's Adler, by the way. Robert Adler, thanks for asking. Now would you be so kind as to answer the lady's question? What's the connection? We've got stolen ancient books to account for." Robert continued, taking a long sip from his coffee as he looked at the two men, lowering his cup as he finished himself with a "Please?"

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

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Mahendra Huq Zalil

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Location: Second Deck (Staircase) -> Main Deck
Skills: Understanding of local Eygptian superstition

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The conversation Mahendra had entered continued to revolve around the status of the Empire and cricket, both of which Mahendra could relate to. He had played several games of the "Jolly good sport of the English gentleman" in his academic years in England, but never quite gotten the hang of it. The talk about the Empire was perhaps of more interest, with the talk of independence movements in several of the Crown's jewels so to speak, including the Indian subcontinent. What did Mahendra think about that, and independent India? Not probable, seen as the various peoples of India were as different as those in Europe, so an united India was unlikely. However...

That's when he caught sight of her. The woman. Dark hair and pale skin, and eyes locked onto him. But those eyes...by the gods, for a moment Mahendra swore he saw them flicker in the shade of red! Mahendra felt both uncomfortable with her sly smile aimed at him, as if inviting him to follow her, yet felt a compelling interest in what this creature was. For with all the divine happenings of the last days, he didn't put it past her to be something more than mortal. But as his mind raced to think of just who and/or what she could be, he either thought she could be everything and nothing at the same time; there were too many options to narrow down. That didn't make him feel any more comfortable though.

Giving him one last look before she descended the stairs down to the Main Deck, Mahendra unknowingly took a step after her, before stopping himself. Why follow her? But why not? His own dark brown eyes looked at the stairs leading up, knowing that Lauren and the others were up there somewhere. But at the same time, his gut told him to follow her. Not because it could mean anything good, but sometimes fate made you do things that made sense in the greater scheme of things. The Gods moved in mysterious ways, as they said. He took two steps back, twirling his fine Bengali moustache as he cotemplated waiting for the others to say who, or what he saw, but...no. In the end Mahendra excused himself from the cricket-conversation, and followed after the red-eyed lady downstairs.

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Richard Barker

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Location: Main Deck (Open Air Lounge)
Skills: None

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Time to dust off his old private detective routine from his golden (more likely faded bronze, but hey it was an expression so just roll with it) days in New York. Richard didn't look directly at the Journal-man, instead looking around a casually and acting as normal as an American on an Egyptian steamboat going up the Nile could be when he wasn't avoiding people going past him. The unlit cigarette rolling between his sweaty fingers, Richard got the occasion look at his man. For a man that looked like he'd spent too much time under the sun, he sure didn't look like a native. Very few Arabs Richard knew had light eyes like that, which meant he probably wasn't local. But what had he done out in the scorching sun for so long, with that leathery tan and stub, and what about the journal?

The private dick made slow and steady progress towards his target, watching him put the journal away and apparently deep in thought. The bulging veins in his hands he saw too, but what that meant was beyond him. He was better at spotting people lying to his face, not so much at distance. Richard walked up to the man, cutting the introductions as he held his unlit cigarette up in front of him and asked him "Quite the tan you got there, pal. Been out too long in the sun?" Richard stood beside the man in the corner, taking off his fedora and using it as a fan to cool himself down. "The heat, you never get used to it do you?" He continued, trying to make small-talk while idly fiddling with the still unlit piece of cheap tobacco between his fingers. "Name's Richard, by the way. Nice to meet you. Sorry for bothering you, but I couldn't help but notice that journal of yours. Just wanted to say it looks mighty fine." The conversation continued, as Richard put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. "Looks just like my girl's. May I ask where you got it from?" The detective asked, breathing in the nicotine and out again in one long puff while looking casually at the man. His gut told him it wasn't his, but in the event that the perp wouldn't talk, he was ready to put up the pressure.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski

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Location: Quincy : Inside house (F6)
Skills: None

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"Sorry dear, but no can do." Alexander had leaned up against the wall on the northern side of the fireplace when Thalia had begun to communicate in her Boston tone, reminding him of a better life up North in a time before the Undead rose up to bite your ass. The Vet respected Thalia, hell he thought she was a good sister in arms to watch your six and trusted her with his life, but he wasn't about to do what she or Beatrice were telling him. Up against the wall and watching Thalia as she managed to make fire, to which he smiled wholly and let out a quiet chuckle of approval, he looked to both of the ladies.

"If we open a window, even if just a smidgeon, there's still the real risk of the fire giving off enough light for people to see it. If we want current, the best would be to have in this room, but we can't. Trust me, any lightsource in a dark enviroment makes you stand out like a Christmas tree in August. It kills you..." Alexander's tone was that of a concerned and stern parent who had been through the exact same thing their child was going through, but couldn't really help them except tell what not to do. The last part was more true than anything, which was why lighting cigarettes was one of the many things that put you on the Sergeant's List of Idiots. It didn't help that Thalia was still on the drug-high, which he knew from experience really screwed with your mind.

"I'll be sure to ask and apologize tomorrow, Angel. Just an old Mugsy barking, ya'know." Alexander said like his old, preferable self at the end, sliding down the wall and scoothing to the side to make himself more comfortable. Manny had a good head on his shoulder suggesting they should take shifts, which Beatrice offered to take first alongside Manny's shotgun. "Thanks Bea, but don't hesitate to wake me up if you need some shut-eye. It's been a long couple of days, and you need to rest too before the morning if and when we're pulling out of here." His offer came at the same time as he fiddled around in his storage and pulled out the bed sheet, folding it to work as a pillow. He'd slept in worse places and situations than that, honestly.

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Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper

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Location: Okefenokee: B4 (Fishing Camp inside) -> B6
Skills: Scouting, Sword Fighting, Close quarter combat

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They were make progress. They weren't dying of thrist, hunger, heatstroke or hypothermia, infections or being mauled to death by the walkers, neither then nor in the foreseeable future, to which Nigel would count as a semi-successful part of his campaign to not-dying. They had found supplies and shelter, and hopefully that would be enough for them to weather the night as best they could. But before sleeping could be put on the table as an option, the building still needed to be confirmed Undead-free. While Wayne closed the door behind him, Nigel the Roman went on clearing-duty.

Nigel "Hadrian" slowly went for the door infront of him, opening it slowly with his left hand while he held his sword ready with the right, ready to defend himself from the unleashed claws of a walker. But the room he entered was clear, dark but clear. He couldn't really hope for anything more than that, and so he just as slowly returned to the main room with the others, of which Erika was jumping up and down for...something. Keeping warm was logically not what she was trying to do, so what? He wouldn't notice the string as he took that oppurtunity to mimick Wayne. Not the talking-to-yourself part, but the other. First the backpacks and satchels came off, left leaning up against the wall. Then his chainmail was taken off in a practiced and well-known method to Nigel Sporticus "Hadrian", and then the leather greaves and vambraces. The sweet touch of "fresh" air against his sweaty skin was worth a dozen sacrifices to Jupiter. "Is there anything up there, Erika?"

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Robert Adler

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Location: Chicago (Grimaldi Books)
Skills: People-Reading

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If Robert was able to take anything from the conversation the others were having in the book store, was that Adelaine wasn't taking shit from nobody. Not even from two buff guys with private-security credentials, apparently, who were asking about the death of her ex-husband. Robert hadn't known about that, or in the paper-equivelant of the Tower of Babel he hadn't thought about it, but that some serious business if it were true. And why were they asking her about it?

Robert couldn't but look at the two men confused at what they were, or the one Hispanic guy was suggesting. Connected murders, a string of them? Robert wondered if the two were lying or up to no good asking questions like that, especially since they were private security and neither cops or private detectives. Robert gave them both a good look, looking for the tell-tale signs of someone lying or obscuring the truth. He'd seen it many times before, but the more he looked at them, the less he got from his lackluster examination. So instead he started sipping his hot cup of coffee while he looked back and forth Adelaide and Caeser. "Excuse me if I'm interrupting you two, but should I leave and continue my own missing-book-investigation somewhere else? It sounds like this is something I really shouldn't be part of."