Polyphemus

Liar, Liar (Murder/Mystery)

Sweet action, I will try to post soon!

By the way, Rookery, what city is that in the thread's logo? The skyline looks really familiar but it's just not coming to me.

The League - First Blood (Persistent World Superhero Sci Fi and Fantasy, Always Open)

Looks like someone left their machine unattended.

Legends of the Rim

Apologies for my absence, guys, had some trouble at the office the last few days.

Legends of the Rim

Heinrich had not walked immediately to the tavern, preferring a relaxed stroll, taking in the sights and sounds of a new town. King's Stone, or "Kinston" as it seemed to be in the native accent, was a dirty, poor place. Excellent, Heinrich thought with a nod. So long as some of the finer things were available and there was enough money around to steal.

He opened the door to the Kettle, his nostrils assailed by the familiar scent of sweat, schnapps, and sawdust that always accompanied such places. As much as he loved an elegant ratskellar or heuriger, this kind of dive felt just as comfortable to him. Heinrich scanned the room, his eyes lighting up as he spied Gustav and Katya, apparently asleep in her chair. Confidently, sword gently bumping his side as he sidestepped the beginnings of a brawl, he strolled over to the old soldier. "Gustav, you dog!" he said with a laugh and a slap to the other man's shoulder. "Trying to get in the first round without me?" He waved in the general direction of the bar, his voice full of command. "Barkeep, two brandies!"

The Poisonville Auditions

Yep, the lobby has a public restroom.

The Poisonville Auditions

DR_TRAPEZOID said
There is absolutely no way stepping into the car of a rival assassin could go wrong.

But he likes your moxie, kid.

The Poisonville Auditions

The Pastor's Statement

If Los Angeles bothered to replay the tape at any point, he would hear the friendly voice of James Bachmeier. The man had talked briefly but efficiently.

"We don't really know a whole lot about Roman Cunningham, to be honest. Some people think he came up from New Orleans, others from Kansas City, other people say the Czech Republic or Britain. Nobody really knows for sure. All anyone knows is that about a year back he showed up and deposited a couple million at the Savings and Trust, then took out loans to build up his trucking company."

"At first everyone was excited- the mine dried up back in the Fifties and there wasn't much work to be had. The trucking company meant jobs, right? That's the way everyone chose to look at it. And sure, some people here in town ended up getting jobs. But most of his employees seemed to come from out of town. Thugs and toughs from all over the country, a lot of them with gang tattoos. Some complained, but ultimately they kept to themselves and seemed happy to spend money here in town."

"Then the drugs started coming in. The meth was getting sold at the high school, at the bowling alley, at bars, everywhere. Ordinary, decent people were getting hooked, they were selling their cars and furniture just to be able to buy more. And Roman just seemed to be getting richer. The police didn't seem to care. Dealers would get busted once in a while, then given a slap on the wrist. Just keeping up appearances. The mayor did nothing. Finally, it seemed like only me, Harlan, Joanna, and Sigurd cared at all. We got ahold of some folks in Helena, and they sent out Captain Twentykiller to have a look around. And now the DEA! Prayers really do come true."

The Street

Cheyenne heard the screeching of brakes next to her. A Crown Victoria slid into the curb at speed. Normally, there are three different users of Crown Vics: police, senior citizens, and rental agencies. This particular car belonged to the last category. That fact might normally be of some comfort to Cheyenne, except for the man jumping out the door and the Smith and Wesson 442 dangling from his hand atop the door frame.

"So, lady, did someone rip the S section out of your dictionary?" he called. He was a thirty-something Asian man, his eyes hidden behind expensive sunglasses. Dressed in a flashy sharkskin suit, it was clear he had money to burn. "Because you don't seem to know the meaning of 'subtle'. Killing the principal right in front of the school took some guts. I like guts, but it takes more than that to get by in this business."

As if on cure, a siren started to sound in the background. "See what I mean?" said the man with a wry grin. "Tell you what, you want to hop in, I'll give you a ride and bend your ear a little. I've got a line on Harlan Kohler, but it looks to be a two-man job. I get you away from the Five-Oh, you help me out, we see where it goes from there. Win-win, right?" The man known only as Honolulu grinned ear to ear as he invitingly opened the passenger side door of his rental.

Cheyenne was faced with a choice. Taker her chances with the police, or take her chances with Honolulu.

The Herald

The receptionist wrinkled her nose at LA's request. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lindquist is out on assignment at the moment. I really can't say when he'll be back. Could I maybe take a message for you, sir?"

Silva, hanging back and watching in the lobby, could see the mysterious Hispanic man hanging out by the front desk. That was one advantage to this contest taking place in such a small town, especially one in Montana- anyone who wasn't white or Native American would stick out like a sore thumb.

As if to punctuate that thought, another man came into the lobby, one who was very hard to miss. Maybe it was his height of 6'5", maybe the shaven head and walrus mustache, maybe the thick arm muscles. Maybe it was the fact that he was the only black man Silva or Los Angeles had seen in this town so far. Or maybe it was his yellow and black Steelers hoodie.

Whatever it was, it made him immediately noticeable. Everyone in the lobby seemed to be watching this man as his long legs carried him up to the front desk. "Is Sigurd Lindquist in?" he asked in a deep, rumbling voice.

The receptionist shrugged. "Like I just told this gentleman, no, he's out at the moment. May I take a message for either of you?"

The big man didn't respond, instead turning to look at LA like a bear looks at a salmon. "You were asking after him too, eh?" the big man asked slowly.

The Poisonville Auditions

Sabotaging LA's car- smart move. I like it.

I'll have one up soon.

Liar, Liar (Murder/Mystery)

I'm waiting for Pink Floyd's eleventh album.

Blind Hand - Chapter 1 : Pathways

Keith Adrian Booker

Gender: Male

Age: 20

Superhuman Abilities: Keith possesses the ability to become intangible at will. While he remains completely visible, solid objects such as fists or bullets will pass harmlessly through him- alternately, he can use this power to pass through walls or other obstacles. However, air also passes through him, so the duration of this ability is limited to as long as he can hold his breath- otherwise he will suffocate from lack of oxygen. This ability is active, not passive- he needs to "turn it on" for it to work. Keith suspects but cannot confirm he has some kind of limited control over his personal gravity as well, as he doesn't sink helplessly into the earth when he turns intangible.

Appearance: Keith is a Caucasian male of average height with carefully styled brown hair and brown eyes. He is extremely thin (by his own intention) and not particularly athletic in build. When able to choose his own clothing he prefers tight designer styles.

Personality Characteristics: Keith outwardly projects a fairly camp, happy-go-lucky image. He always acts in a joking, positive manner and given the chance will ramble for hours about topics that interest him. However, beneath it all Keith boils with resentment. The world has not treated him well and he feels (not wrongly) that he has been victimized his entire life. Keith constantly berates himself for lacking the courage to stand up for himself, and alternately for not hiding who he is.

History: From a young age, the Booker family knew Keith was different. Working class people in a working class part of Alabama, the Bookers were tight-knit and loving. When Keith realized he was gay as a young teenager, his parents and siblings remained loving and supportive. The same could not be said of the rest of his town, a close-minded place where people knew him as "that queer". Keith was teased and abused mercilessly by his classmates and peers, occasionally with physical violence. His childhood was rife with humiliating incidents- a church pastor refusing him admittance to a wedding ceremony, a waitress very slowly and deliberately spilling a drink on him. While Keith loved his family, he found life in this town unbearable and longed to escape and go to college to study theater- a cliche for someone in his situation, true, but dramatics offered his one refuge. Being of limited financial means, though, he had to work several part time jobs to save enough money in the years after high school. He would hold down a job for a few months or so, until the inevitable harassment from his coworkers got to be too much. It was during one such job, night shift at a burger joint, that his powers first manifested. One of his coworkers had made a game of "accidentally" hip-checking Keith aside. Keith, lacking the spine to say anything, just sighed and let the man have his fun- until one night he seemed to pass straight through Keith and fall to the floor. While his coworker assumed that he had just miscalculated and missed, Keith knew differently. He experimented on his own time, found he was able to turn himself intangible. Scarcely a week later, though, he was tasered by a man in a balaclava on his walk home from work. Surprised and unable to react in time, Keith was pulled into a van and kept under heavy sedation. Next thing he knows, he is aboard a plane, leaving Alabama for the first time in his life- just not under the circumstances he hoped for.