POOHEAD189

This isn't working out: Part 3

The dogma and culture are just an outgrowth of believing something that is fundamentally crazy without any evidence. Maybe there is a deistic world view out there that isn't totally bonkers, but I have yet to encounter it.

@Penny

A lot of religion is kind of crazy, I just believe there's order to the chaos which I call God. I don't think any religion has the 100% correct idea.

But so as not to turn this into a religious debate thread, as long as my date doesn't try to put a pamphlet of scientology in my hands/makes me celebrate their holidays/converts me, and I've really enjoyed them for 3 dates, it's no big deal on my part.

---

What I'd most care about is if they're

• Fun
• Smart
• Likes what I like
• I think they're cute

This isn't working out: Part 3

<Snipped quote by POOHEAD189>

I'd prefer you told me on the fist date so that I could get out of there without any unnecessary awkwardness!

@Penny

Wow, a deal breaker!? I'd figure it would be the dogma and culture that was the problem, not the belief.

Funnily enough most of my dates have been with athiests and it was never brought up. I did date one christian girl, and one...deist?

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

Even outside the walls of the Gunny College, the street was filled with labor. Couriers running to send missives whilst men hauled sacks of flour and barrels of what one could only guess onto carts or into various establishments. The only two people out there that seemed to have little to do at the current moment were the thief and the con-woman, or the engineer and the artistocrat. In the distance, shots could be heard. Startling to newcomers, but Neil knew they were dry shots to test various concoctions for Black Powder Week. Unfortunately, he was on probation from last year's debacle, so once he finished this latest project he had little to do.

"Under his protection, of course." He said, as much to himself as the pretty woman. She was either very sheltered, or a very big liar. Both were honestly possible, the former more likely. But for some reason there was an itch he just had to scratch. At the mention of Nuln, he continued. "It certainly does, Frauline...The Palace, the Old Quarter, the River that brings in barges filled with travelers, merchants, materials... gold."

He watched her eyes intently as the word lingered, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. After a moment, he continued so breathlessly nonchalant it would tip off a con artist or breeze entirely past the very ignorant. "To you it might not seem like much but, five hundred pounds of gold every chest is a huge temptation to someone like me. If I were a less moral man that might be something I would try and capitalize on, especially since I found a shipment log on the schedule in the back."

As if he plucked it out of thin air, Neil held up a parchment that at first glance indeed looked like it had shipping dates on it. What it had been doing in the mining logs was another question, or maybe he had been planning it for awhile? Or maybe it was all just a lie. But then again, why would he lie about something like that? Truth be told, it was perfect timing on the shipment's part. It was arriving just when Black Powder week was beginning, which meant even the guards were going to focused on the boom of the cannon and the light show that night, drowning out any sound a thief might make and keeping them occupied until the next morning.

"But pay no heed to a knave like me. I'm certain Otto Von Banstuf and his Sawdust mine are fanciful enough for a proper lady such as yourself."

This isn't working out: Part 3

*Marks down lying about italian vineyards is a no-go for him*

But seriously, it might not be in the 'third date' topic, but being upfront and honest with a date is key.

This isn't working out: Part 3

I'm religious, but it really says something when I wouldn't want to date a religious person either. They're either preachy, boring, judgemental, or all three. I suppose I'm not into 'organized religion.' As long as someone respects my ideas about the universe, I'll respect theirs.

Priest and Hawthorne Investigations: A Modern Fantasy Adventure!

John Moore

Name: John Moore

Gender/Pronouns (as applicable): Male (he/him)

Race/Species: Human (with coyote spirit). 3/4th english, 1/4th Cherokee

Age (Real and apparent): 21 and he looks it.

Appearance: 'Street' would be the best way to describe John to anyone who cared to ask. He throws on whatever baggy pants he can grab, whatever t-shirt he can don, and he combs his mane just enough to keep it out of his eyes. His dark features accompany his lithe, youthful frame nicely, though considering he lacks fashion or care it's mostly wasted. With a tanned physique and strong, callused hands, his amber eyes reflect light like they were wrought of a reflective metal. They're even more striking than the sterling silver necklace he wears under his shirt, emblazoned with the symbol of the coyote.

Personality: Many would call John lazy, sarcastic, ungrateful, and various other less than stellar terms. To a point, they're right. He's a hard worker when pressed, but he enjoys slacking off when he can. Sarcasm and jokes are his bread and butter when he's not complaining. In essence, he's the typical college dropout, unhappy with his lot in life and his lack of options, just finding humor and brevity where he may. Of course, as per cliche tradition, deep down he's a caring, good man with hopes and dreams and courage in the most unlikely of places. Unfortunately, the Spirit inside him keeps him annoyed enough and disrupts his life enough to where this 'unpolished gem' rarely shows its face. When the Coyote takes over, even for a moment, John goes from facetious to cackling, his expression transforms from choleric to a fiercely sardonic, and in flirtatious situations he even goes from awkward to smooth. John has started getting used to walking away from situations without remorse, just trying to keep the consequences of his actions from reaching him. All from waking up in the middle of a hairbrained situation the Coyote has dragged him into, whether it be in a stolen car, the bed of a stranger, or eating Trix at 3 AM watching animal planet. One thing is for sure, he's definitely put his mind to controlling the Spirit, showcasing he has the will to do so when he applies himself. What he really wants is to turn his affliction into a positive, and thanks to his tracking skills he thinks he's found his niche. Secretly he feels the agency is good security for if he goes crazy with the spirit, but he would never admit it.

Powers, Traits, and Abilities: John himself can street fight when he needs to, and he's been given basic firearms training by Priest & Hawthorne. What he really has pivotal knowledge on are cryptids and animistic spirits, and how the mind of a thief works.

His Coyote Spirit is what truly makes him notable, though it's also the complication. At the funeral of his grandfather, he was given his grandfather's old pendant, unknowingly cursing himself with the wraith-like animal thing. Now apart of him, it's turned his life upside down. On the bright side, John has enhanced hearing, smell, and eyesight. He's also a bit stronger, faster, and dexterous than he used to be, though not to any large degree. He can track spirits and aberrations when under the influence of the coyote, and with his speed he can help find most things the agency hunts.

Unfortunately, the curse has a tendency for the spirit to 'overtake' him sometimes, forcing himself out of his body as the spirit takes over to commit mischief and feel the free air once more. John's had to deal with it for a year, which led to him dropping out of college, losing most his friends, and deciding to move out of Jacksonville to join Priest & Hawthorne. Thankfully, he's gotten used enough to it to keep the spirit most suppressed. It's when the two work in unison that he becomes truly powerful.

When that happens, his body transforms into what appears to be a sixty pound coyote, able to see into the spirit world. Any wounds inflicted on it are healed when he reverts back to his normal body.

He had heard stories of werecoyotes, with the shape of both coyote and man. But he hasn't quite reached that point yet. He's just trying to have a normal life at this point.

Background:

"Yes, I know." He sighed, leaning against the wall, a hand pressed to his forehead to vainly keep the migraine down. Advil had done little, and the 'fresh northern air' wasn't the cure all he had been told. "Look, I'm not trying to argue. Let's just agree that the best thing to do is to let you take him for awhile. I know he'll miss me, but I'm not responsible enough for him. Not right now, just trust me. I'll wire some money to you to pay for his vet bills..."

A glazed look came over his eyes as his brows narrowed, showcasing the face he would make were he face to face with her. "I like how you say you're a cat person, because on my end you're sounding like a real bitch."

He hung up, vastly aware of just how much he was going to pay for that later in guilt and time. He knew, in ten years time, breaking up with Margo was going to be one of his biggest regrets. The last two months hadn't been easy, and he'd become particularly vulnerable to his condition. It was after he nearly hit someone with his car that he knew he needed help, and a new life. He was a survivor after all, just like the spirit. Unlike the coyote, he needed a job and a healthy way to deal with his problems.

He pushed off the wall, just about to step into the crowd to go hitch a ride with anyone he could, when his keen vision caught the sleight of hand of a pick pocket three meters away. It almost seemed like a dream, and he felt it as much as saw it. Somehow the coyote knew where to look. For the briefest of moments, he was about to go and attack the thief, without provocation or a back up plan. But he was in enough trouble as it was. Instead, he caught up with the lawyer-looking guy who was suddenly a wallet short.

"Hey," he said, patting his shoulder to catch his attention. The rolling of the suitcase faltered as he turned, confused and a bit bemused. John pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "See that guy in the green hoodie? He took your wallet."

The college kid was already walking away as the man felt for his wallet and realized it was gone.

"Hey, you! Stop!" He cried behind John's back, and the boy felt a weird leather thing in his pocket at just that moment. Suddenly, he realized he had the wallet! John opened his mouth, and then hurried away, caught between helping the man by giving it back and admitting to a crime he knew that thing inside of him committed.

"Why did you take his wallet!?" John hissed to what seemed no one. In his mind he heard snickering, and a...feeling cascaded over him, like a message but without words or images. Just a conveyed meaning he could decipher. John almost laughed at the realization that the spirit simply wanted to one up another trickster, regardless of the consequences. Looking back on it, he recalled the moment the coyote took over and swiped the wallet from the other thief. John was getting better at catching it, but he needed more focus.

He felt like he was walking through a spiderweb growing more and more taut as he walked out of the airport, carrying the wallet further away from its rightful owner. He was just scared and alone, in a new city with some psycho curse or insane mental condition. Once he made it out of the parking lot, he started to run down the street even as it began to rain. He ran until he found himself in the city, suddenly surrounded by towers of stone and steel. He clutched at the wallet and backed into an alley that was more occupied than he originally thought.

"You took that wallet from me!" A nasally voice accused, and John spun around to see a... a small man. A small green man, with a red beard. John pointed at him, his brow furrowing.

"You're a leprechaun." He stated. He was too weirded out to say much else. "A guy stole a wallet, not someone as short as you."

"Yes, I am laddae! And I can appear as a tall folk if I wish! That wallet is going in me pot of gold!" The diminutive sprite declared, and floated there expectantly. John blinked, because he had the distinct impression there was a con going on here. It was like he had a second type of vision, for he saw a cloaked form gliding like a hanglider over to nab the money in John's hands. The young man couldn't see the creature he believed was fake until two seconds ago. But in the shade of the alley, his dark eyes glinted gold, and suddenly he could not only see the invisible thing, but smell the sprite. Inside his mind, he heard chortling, and his hand shot out to grab what he shouldn't have been able to see.

"What!?" The leprechaun gasped, flummoxed. Vainly he wiggled his short arms, trying to break free. John pulled him up to eye level, and smirked. Moments later, he had thrown the leprechaun in the dumpster, and took a long wiff of the wallet. He realized he was going to come clean and find the man back at the airport. He could track him.

Two days later, he found himself just at the front of a building the spirit had guided him to. Just before him, Priest & Hawthorne Investigations was stamped on the building.

He figured he could do field work. He needed the money after all.

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

"Altdorf? I like it." He said, taking no notice of her playing the part of an effete aristocrat. They said Reikland had the finest wine, richest palaces, and the fairest women. He never paid much attention to the rumors, but he was starting to believe. It was tough being this close to someone he thought had a fair chance of having gold on them, but he kept his hands from any pockets. Anyone that had to be near old Otto deserved a bit of a break. Plus any theft would inevitably lead back to him. "I went through there once, but it was only for a day. It's a lot like Nuln, actually." He looked up at the towering spires above them, and despite the dirtied alleys, the fair smell of the river wafted before every door.

"That's a lofty name. I'm surprised you don't have any guardsmen following you around. Even near the academy, there's a few ne'er-do-wells about." He said, winking. It really was suspicious, but he hadn't entirely guessed what was happening yet. He noticed her shiver again, and wondered if this was entirely frowned upon. She might claim she wasn't sent out, but either way she was out here not by choice, like he was. Without making a show of it, he slid his jacket off and felt the crisp air land on his arms as he slid it on her shoulders. "Here you go." He'd only be out for a few minutes, anyway.

"I'm from Marienburg. Not a bad place if you can toss some cards and play some dice." He said, watching her to see if she noticed the turn of phrase. "Came here for a better life, but so far it's been...fashionably late in showing up."

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

Neil opened his mouth to speak, not once but twice during the conversation, but it was clear they were discussing business. Shrugging, he decided to look around the desks and drawers around the Master to see if he could find what he needed to finish his project, the sliding and closing of the drawers every few moments drew on until his superior gave him a look that told him to leave their presence in no uncertain terms. He might be tonedeaf when he was focused on something, but here he took the cue quickly and bowed out, confused at to what exactly he should be doing at the moment.

"Let's look back at the records before the closing," Gunter reasoned, continuing his conversation as Neil glanced back and saw the woman stepping out. His eyes went from her to his master, to Otto, to the woman, and then behind him. He knew immediately he was going to go and talk to her more candidly. What else was he expected to do? There wasn't a rule against it, even if he'd be scolded for it. He just needed a way to walk past his master without being noticed. So he decided to do what he did best: Went around back and hopped the wall onto the street.

As he clambered up the stone wall, using his dexterous fingers to find the slightest holds before he crested the twelve foot obstacle, he was about to swing his legs over when a voice behind him called up to him.

"Oi, boy! What the hells do you think you're doing?" He heard, the voice about as rough as coal. Neil turned back to see Moradar the Dwarf out in the yard, holding an anvil in his brawny hands. Neil opened his mouth to speak yet again, trying to find the right excuse. A lost wrench wouldn't work. No explosions had just occurred, and nothing had been shot over the wall. The young man had been caught entirely red handed. Where had that Dwarf been to sneak up on him like that?

"I'm doing something I shouldn't be doing!" He called down, which caused the Dawi to erupt in laughter.

"Well, as long as yer honest with me, lad. Go on and go about your business!" He declared surprisingly. Dwarfs were keen on law and custom, but honesty as well it seemed. Neil made a mental note to give that Dwarf some help in the future. Right now, however, he had a golden woman to talk to.

It was Ranald's luck his feet didn't sink into any garbage; the cobblestones beneath his feet wet and grimy, but not entirely filled with waste. A few steps ahead lead him out into the open street, and he kicked his feet on the curb to make sure nothing was on them. Cool, nothing. He longed for the day he could afford to buy new shoes, new clothes, something big to eat. He glanced to his right and noticed his mark, curious on if it was prudent to steal something from her while her back was turned. No, he didn't come out here to thieve, at least yet. Beautiful noblewomen were a bit more rare than a loose purse, after all. This one was also smirking for some reason. Interesting.

"They make me wait out in the cold too." He said to announce himself, sliding up to her. He sported a brown jacket over his usual linen shirt, but even that wouldn't be warm enough once the sun began to fall. He pulled his open jacket a bit further closed as he smiled. "Are you new to Nuln? You've got the look of a Reikland girl."

This isn't working out: Part 3

Sci-fi in general, I have met people that will refuse to read/watch it.

@Penny

Agreed 100%

Tricksters and Theives: A Warhammer RP

Master Gunter rubbed his hairy chin, not expecting such a visit so early in the year. He was the sort of man that always looked displeased, even when in a fair mood. Perhaps it was the stone shape of his chin or his drab eyes that looked wrought of iron. He could have looked much like a judiciary official rather than a master engineer, though he wore the title well. Otto and he had done business at least a dozen times in the past, but something felt a bit off about this visit. Not that he was going to cause any trouble, this is what they paid him for after all. That and the training of gunnery crews. The air was a tad stuffy and thick from the constant work within its walls, but relatively warm thanks to the distant fires and clever system of rafters they had installed when the building was built. What was less comfortable was this question Otto had presented him. Weren't these mines closed by decree due to the greenskin infestation? He'd heard grumblings on it by the Dwarfs that worked over in their quarter.

"Otto, I'm not sure if I'm the one who could-" He began, but the pudgy man was insistent.

"I've already cleared everything, I just need to know if I have the Master's approval," Otto repeated, eyeing him. That took Gunter back for a moment, clearly unused to being interrupted by the man. His eyes moved back to the woman behind the fellow. Gunter had never been one to be enchanted by a nice pair of legs, but he knew a beautiful woman when he saw one. She looked noble enough, however. Maybe he wasn't giving Gunter enough credit. The man could handle himself.

With a sigh, and he nodded. "Let me get my books and check for you." He said, turning around just as a younger man with a wiley look to his eye stepped out from the backroom.

"Hey, Master Gunter do you have a 3/6 wrench I could borrow?" He began, before his eyes opened wide at Otto and his lovely companion so casually standing before the counter. Inevitable, his eyes focused on Emmaline despite the clear knowledge on who and what Otto Von Banstuf represented. It took the two older men to realize the sudden noise wasn't a steam engine going off, but an appreciative and rather suggestive whistle from Neil. As their less than pleased gazes fell on him, he seemed to not notice. His eyes glinted like agates in the firelight, and he gave pointed at the (to his knowledge) noblewoman without any proper ettiquete. "Is she a student here?"

"No she's not a student here!" the master roared, about to give him a proper scolding before he calmed himself, present company stifling most of his anger. He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking very much like the 'thinking man' statues that lined Nuln's famous library near the palace. Neil had been there before... but not when it was open. He pushed that to the back of his mind so he could face the irate look of his betters. "While you're here, make yourself useful. Go in the back and grab the logs on the eastern mines. Should be on the top shelf to the left, do it before I take your apprenticeship and throw it in the fires."

"Ok, I'm sorry!" Neil replied, holding his hands up and sliding back. One might think he would have bumped into the back wall, but either he had been here enough or had eyes in the back of his head, he backed away perfectly and gave a sweeping bow to the guests. If Emmaline had sharp eyes, she would see he gave a wink under his messy dark hair. Once he had slipped away, his head began to crank like the clock he'd been tinkering with. Somehow he could use what was happening to his advantage. If he could only get the cobwebs dusted off the right side of his brain. His left side had been dominate the past few months thanks to these assignments. Well, he would at least get the book while he plotted. In less than a minute, he grabbed two volumes, not knowing exactly which one was the correct list and brought it back obediently, slamming them on the counter.

"Now about that wen-uh wrench..."