Polyphemus Member
They/ Them
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- Polyphemus 12 yrs ago
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I'm confused, you explicitly mention William Randolph Hearst as the mind behind this, but he died back in 1951, way before CCTV, electronic infrastructure, or tracking devices were introduced. Also why would an American put up a prize in British pounds?
"Those are excellent questions," the Scotsman said, nodding. Unnoticed at the table, the Greek took a glass of Scotch.
"The fact of the matter, lads and lasses, with one exception we don't know where they are. The war was a confused affair, we're still sorting through paperwork, interrogating prisoners, finding hidden archives. We will be learning new things for years to come, and that's even if no one comes forward voluntarily with information. We have analysts, archivists, informants working on this."
The Greek took an appreciative sniff of the whisky, before a careful sip.
Farquharson continued. "As such, we couldn't possibly dream of separating you from your families, not for a long period. If we discover a potential lead, we will inform you at your homes and arrange for your travel. Your job is to be the, um, shall we say elimination. The collation and triage of intelligence will be done mostly by others."
"Alright, I will do it," Konstantinos Stavrou said abruptly, fingering his cheap tie and knocking back half the glass with one gulp. "Include me. I am ready."
The Scotsman blinked, taken a little back by the sudden outburst. "Um, very well." The Rabbi sat quietly, but looking closely, one could see the corner of the man's lip twitching in what just might have been a smile. "As I was saying, right now we only know for sure the location of one of our, um, targets. Essen, in Germany itself."
"It will be a gesture of your sincerity," the Rabbi said. "A good faith kill, to bind us all together with his blood."
"If we feel it was handled in a satisfactory manner, then we will happily present you with the other eleven names and what information we have available," Captain Farquharson said, running a nervous finger over his mustache. "An audition, so to speak. I know the Farmer and the Violinist are willing to participate, but you two. . ." He gestured to Astrid and Jean. "If you wish to leave this room, we'll not hold it against you. We'll happily compensate you five hundred pounds for your trouble."
"The fact of the matter, lads and lasses, with one exception we don't know where they are. The war was a confused affair, we're still sorting through paperwork, interrogating prisoners, finding hidden archives. We will be learning new things for years to come, and that's even if no one comes forward voluntarily with information. We have analysts, archivists, informants working on this."
The Greek took an appreciative sniff of the whisky, before a careful sip.
Farquharson continued. "As such, we couldn't possibly dream of separating you from your families, not for a long period. If we discover a potential lead, we will inform you at your homes and arrange for your travel. Your job is to be the, um, shall we say elimination. The collation and triage of intelligence will be done mostly by others."
"Alright, I will do it," Konstantinos Stavrou said abruptly, fingering his cheap tie and knocking back half the glass with one gulp. "Include me. I am ready."
The Scotsman blinked, taken a little back by the sudden outburst. "Um, very well." The Rabbi sat quietly, but looking closely, one could see the corner of the man's lip twitching in what just might have been a smile. "As I was saying, right now we only know for sure the location of one of our, um, targets. Essen, in Germany itself."
"It will be a gesture of your sincerity," the Rabbi said. "A good faith kill, to bind us all together with his blood."
"If we feel it was handled in a satisfactory manner, then we will happily present you with the other eleven names and what information we have available," Captain Farquharson said, running a nervous finger over his mustache. "An audition, so to speak. I know the Farmer and the Violinist are willing to participate, but you two. . ." He gestured to Astrid and Jean. "If you wish to leave this room, we'll not hold it against you. We'll happily compensate you five hundred pounds for your trouble."
Alrighty, now that' everyone's been introduced, I'm not concerned with post order. Post whenever it feel natural!
"Wait, hold on, what?" Nate said, then gulped as the bottle landed on him. "Oh, shit. Um, dare?"
Username - Polyphemus
Character Name - Samuel Lin
Nickname - Sammy
Age - 36
Occupation - Gambler
Gender - Male
Height - 5'7"
Weight - 138
Appearance - Lin is a wiry man of Han Chinese descent, with refined facial features and short-cut dark hair. He is short and thin, and often chooses to move very slowly.
Clothing - Lin likes suits, typically of light material and color to combat the desert heat. This is complimented by a white straw hat and a very shiny pair of brown leather boots, which he is somewhat vain about.
Starting location - Fort Hadly
Skills - Lin makes his living off gambling, so naturally most of his skills lie in this area. He has a natural talent for reading people, and can usually intuit someone's emotional state or whether or not they're lying. In addition, Lin is also extremely fast and possesses excellent reflexes and reaction time.
Weaknesses - While very quick, Lin lacks physical strength, forcing him to depend on flight or the element of surprise in physical encounters. A prolonged fight is not going to end in his favor. In addition, he has the misfortune of being Chinese in a time and place when non-whites were treated very poorly.
Weaponry - Lin keeps a ten-inch dagger sheathed safely in his left boot, ready to be drawn in a hurry.
Equipment - Lin lives out of a suitcase, usually traveling from town to town by train or coach. His trunk contains:
-One deck of playing cards
-A backgammon set
-Two other suits
-A razor
-A tin of tooth powder
-Comb
-Boot polish and brush
-Bottle of brandy
Personality - Lin is not averse to taking risks, indeed, his career as a gambler is almost as much about adventure as it is money. He dislikes taking unfair advantage over people, as well as those who do so regularly. An unfair victory is meaningless in his eyes.
Biography - Lin and his parents were among the first waves of Chinese immigrants to arrive in the United States to work on the Transcontinental Railroad. What little leisure time he managed during that enormous project was usually spent learning English from native workers- along with games of chance. The idea of gambling appealed to his competitive spirit, and he soon discovered that he possessed a natural talent for it. He was able to make enough money to support himself and still have a little left over for his parents. Eventually, he bought some suits and started wandering the Southwest, in search of a big enough pot and a big enough thrill.
Character Name - Samuel Lin
Nickname - Sammy
Age - 36
Occupation - Gambler
Gender - Male
Height - 5'7"
Weight - 138
Appearance - Lin is a wiry man of Han Chinese descent, with refined facial features and short-cut dark hair. He is short and thin, and often chooses to move very slowly.
Clothing - Lin likes suits, typically of light material and color to combat the desert heat. This is complimented by a white straw hat and a very shiny pair of brown leather boots, which he is somewhat vain about.
Starting location - Fort Hadly
Skills - Lin makes his living off gambling, so naturally most of his skills lie in this area. He has a natural talent for reading people, and can usually intuit someone's emotional state or whether or not they're lying. In addition, Lin is also extremely fast and possesses excellent reflexes and reaction time.
Weaknesses - While very quick, Lin lacks physical strength, forcing him to depend on flight or the element of surprise in physical encounters. A prolonged fight is not going to end in his favor. In addition, he has the misfortune of being Chinese in a time and place when non-whites were treated very poorly.
Weaponry - Lin keeps a ten-inch dagger sheathed safely in his left boot, ready to be drawn in a hurry.
Equipment - Lin lives out of a suitcase, usually traveling from town to town by train or coach. His trunk contains:
-One deck of playing cards
-A backgammon set
-Two other suits
-A razor
-A tin of tooth powder
-Comb
-Boot polish and brush
-Bottle of brandy
Personality - Lin is not averse to taking risks, indeed, his career as a gambler is almost as much about adventure as it is money. He dislikes taking unfair advantage over people, as well as those who do so regularly. An unfair victory is meaningless in his eyes.
Biography - Lin and his parents were among the first waves of Chinese immigrants to arrive in the United States to work on the Transcontinental Railroad. What little leisure time he managed during that enormous project was usually spent learning English from native workers- along with games of chance. The idea of gambling appealed to his competitive spirit, and he soon discovered that he possessed a natural talent for it. He was able to make enough money to support himself and still have a little left over for his parents. Eventually, he bought some suits and started wandering the Southwest, in search of a big enough pot and a big enough thrill.
Though he tried to hide it, Nate was totally okay with what had just happened. Still, as he had been raised, he tried to be a gentleman, stripping off his jacket and having it ready for her return.
Alright, I'm in. Not because I'm following you or anything, just cause.
"This is a lot of shit," Harris Klein said to the empty room. It was 10:20 AM, well before the reading was scheduled to begin, and Klein had been one of the first to arrive, as per usual. Remarkably quiet for such a fat man, he had slipped past both Zolner and that woman Matthews without being commented upon and snatched up one of the scripts. Might as well look through the script, get a few quick impressions.
And so, script tucked under his arm, he had skulked off to an unused common room, along with the bucket of fried chicken and liter bottle of Coke he had brought from home. Well, mostly Coke. About 3/4 of the dark liquid in the bottle was soft. The rest was Myer's Rum, the dark color blending perfectly with the soda. No one would suspect a thing, Klein assured himself. He had this down to an art, and art was a thing at which he excelled.
"This is so much shit," he repeated, dropping the script on the couch next to him. "They expect my character to win a fistfight against a younger man? Have they seen me before?" The fat man sighed melodramatically for an audience that did not exist, fishing for another wing out of his bucket. "I hope the incidental music will cover my wheezing. Perhaps I could just fall on him." Harris was disappointed to discover he had finished the wings unconsciously while perusing the script. He wiped his fingers carefully on a napkin, then dropped the bucket into the nearest wastebin. Taking another sip of his enormous rum and coke, the fat man ambled back to the conference room, taking care to snag a couple of Danishes from craft services before dropping his considerable bulk into a deep chair, ready to wait patiently for the others. He didn't bother with a nametag. People knew who he was.
"Good morning," he said in greeting to Zolner and Matthews. "I took the liberty of looking through the script briefly, and I regret to inform you that my first impressions are mostly negative." He sighed deeply, took a swig of his cocktail. "I mean this not as an insult, but as a challenge to you. Weak scripts can be compensated. Bear that in mind." He leaned back in his chair, stuffed an entire Danish into his mouth.
And so, script tucked under his arm, he had skulked off to an unused common room, along with the bucket of fried chicken and liter bottle of Coke he had brought from home. Well, mostly Coke. About 3/4 of the dark liquid in the bottle was soft. The rest was Myer's Rum, the dark color blending perfectly with the soda. No one would suspect a thing, Klein assured himself. He had this down to an art, and art was a thing at which he excelled.
"This is so much shit," he repeated, dropping the script on the couch next to him. "They expect my character to win a fistfight against a younger man? Have they seen me before?" The fat man sighed melodramatically for an audience that did not exist, fishing for another wing out of his bucket. "I hope the incidental music will cover my wheezing. Perhaps I could just fall on him." Harris was disappointed to discover he had finished the wings unconsciously while perusing the script. He wiped his fingers carefully on a napkin, then dropped the bucket into the nearest wastebin. Taking another sip of his enormous rum and coke, the fat man ambled back to the conference room, taking care to snag a couple of Danishes from craft services before dropping his considerable bulk into a deep chair, ready to wait patiently for the others. He didn't bother with a nametag. People knew who he was.
"Good morning," he said in greeting to Zolner and Matthews. "I took the liberty of looking through the script briefly, and I regret to inform you that my first impressions are mostly negative." He sighed deeply, took a swig of his cocktail. "I mean this not as an insult, but as a challenge to you. Weak scripts can be compensated. Bear that in mind." He leaned back in his chair, stuffed an entire Danish into his mouth.
Username - Polyphemus
Character Name - Samuel Lin
Nickname - Sammy
Age - 36
Occupation - Gambler
Gender - Male
Height - 5'7"
Weight - 138
Appearance - Lin is a wiry man of Han Chinese descent, with refined facial features and short-cut dark hair. He is short and thin, and often chooses to move very slowly.
Clothing - Lin likes suits, typically of light material and color to combat the desert heat. This is complimented by a white straw hat and a very shiny pair of brown leather boots, which he is somewhat vain about.
Starting location - Fort Hadly
Skills - Lin makes his living off gambling, so naturally most of his skills lie in this area. He has a natural talent for reading people, and can usually intuit someone's emotional state or whether or not they're lying. In addition, Lin is also extremely fast and possesses excellent reflexes and reaction time.
Weaknesses - While very quick, Lin lacks physical strength, forcing him to depend on flight or the element of surprise in physical encounters. A prolonged fight is not going to end in his favor. In addition, he has the misfortune of being Chinese in a time and place when non-whites were treated very poorly.
Weaponry - Lin keeps a ten-inch dagger sheathed safely in his left boot, ready to be drawn in a hurry.
Equipment - Lin lives out of a suitcase, usually traveling from town to town by train or coach. His trunk contains:
-One deck of playing cards
-A backgammon set
-Two other suits
-A razor
-A tin of tooth powder
-Comb
-Boot polish and brush
-Bottle of brandy
Personality - Lin is not averse to taking risks, indeed, his career as a gambler is almost as much about adventure as it is money. He dislikes taking unfair advantage over people, as well as those who do so regularly. An unfair victory is meaningless in his eyes.
Biography - Lin and his parents were among the first waves of Chinese immigrants to arrive in the United States to work on the Transcontinental Railroad. What little leisure time he managed during that enormous project was usually spent learning English from native workers- along with games of chance. The idea of gambling appealed to his competitive spirit, and he soon discovered that he possessed a natural talent for it. He was able to make enough money to support himself and still have a little left over for his parents. Eventually, he bought some suits and started wandering the Southwest, in search of a big enough pot and a big enough thrill.
Not perfect, I know, had to bang it together real quick. Will refine.
Character Name - Samuel Lin
Nickname - Sammy
Age - 36
Occupation - Gambler
Gender - Male
Height - 5'7"
Weight - 138
Appearance - Lin is a wiry man of Han Chinese descent, with refined facial features and short-cut dark hair. He is short and thin, and often chooses to move very slowly.
Clothing - Lin likes suits, typically of light material and color to combat the desert heat. This is complimented by a white straw hat and a very shiny pair of brown leather boots, which he is somewhat vain about.
Starting location - Fort Hadly
Skills - Lin makes his living off gambling, so naturally most of his skills lie in this area. He has a natural talent for reading people, and can usually intuit someone's emotional state or whether or not they're lying. In addition, Lin is also extremely fast and possesses excellent reflexes and reaction time.
Weaknesses - While very quick, Lin lacks physical strength, forcing him to depend on flight or the element of surprise in physical encounters. A prolonged fight is not going to end in his favor. In addition, he has the misfortune of being Chinese in a time and place when non-whites were treated very poorly.
Weaponry - Lin keeps a ten-inch dagger sheathed safely in his left boot, ready to be drawn in a hurry.
Equipment - Lin lives out of a suitcase, usually traveling from town to town by train or coach. His trunk contains:
-One deck of playing cards
-A backgammon set
-Two other suits
-A razor
-A tin of tooth powder
-Comb
-Boot polish and brush
-Bottle of brandy
Personality - Lin is not averse to taking risks, indeed, his career as a gambler is almost as much about adventure as it is money. He dislikes taking unfair advantage over people, as well as those who do so regularly. An unfair victory is meaningless in his eyes.
Biography - Lin and his parents were among the first waves of Chinese immigrants to arrive in the United States to work on the Transcontinental Railroad. What little leisure time he managed during that enormous project was usually spent learning English from native workers- along with games of chance. The idea of gambling appealed to his competitive spirit, and he soon discovered that he possessed a natural talent for it. He was able to make enough money to support himself and still have a little left over for his parents. Eventually, he bought some suits and started wandering the Southwest, in search of a big enough pot and a big enough thrill.
Not perfect, I know, had to bang it together real quick. Will refine.
Like any teenage boy, Nate liked the sound of this one, though he played it cool. "Well, you heard the man."
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