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JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Verum Autem Ex

Leonard waved Mieke off with two of his fingers, wary at how well she could handle this task, but appreciating her tact. It felt as though she really would call him up before attempting to engage the target, which was a great relief to him. Perhaps with the knowledge he imparted she wouldn't be such a liability after all? He had only himself to thank for such brilliant thinking. In any case, it was off to explore the park he went.

Several minutes had passed by without anything resembling success. Leonard of course kept his eyes and ears out for anything suspicious, especially whenever he heard laughter, but to no avail. He tactfully approached those enjoying the gardens as well, inquiring if they had run across any comedians moving about the arboretum, but this too was for naught. The situation was looking like he was wasting his time here... Which was to be expected really, considering how little they had to go on and the chances the target would have been at this exact location at this exact time. Still, perseverance was the name of the game and this wouldn't break Leonard's focus.

That's when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. "This is Skinner," he said, answering it.

"Hello?" came the voice on the other end, which Leonard immediately recognized. "It's me, Arthur. I've just gotten a list of the city comedy clubs. If you've turned up any info on any gardens or anything, we can help each other out by figuring out places to go that have both clubs and gardens nearby.”

"Not a poor idea, Mr. St. Anger. Currently I find myself exploring the US National Arboretum accompanied by Miss Choux. I found it to be the largest and nearest to our starting point, yet the ground to cover is indeed quite formidable. I would appreciate if you could corroborate any nearby venues."

One Piece: New Horizons!

"Boomboomboomboomboom!" bellowed the deep, hearty laughter of "Bullet" Bill as his body transformed back into a recognizable human form, no longer resembling a cannon. Previously it seemed to be his crew's favoritism toward cannons that inspired the man's epithet, but after seeing his strange and unique power, it was clear the nickname had separate origin.

"I was prepared fer a mutiny, but I didn' think it'd come so soon. 'Spose tha's what I git fer lettin' 'im stay on as me first mate, ay?" The captain smiled broad, hands placed on his hips, but the rest were not so quick to join in his jubilence. The shock that their former captain, the man many had thought be be borderline undefeatable, had been so easily dispatched through the wall, it left them catatonic. Then there were the rest, who still hadn't yet recovered from the idea that Pike had lost in football! Boy, were they in for a surprise as soon as they registered everything else that had just happened...

Bill swept his arm out across the hall, presenting it. A couple of the previous matches had left their mark, dinged up the place, scuffed up the stone here and there, but the last match? The room had been left is a state of complete disarray. Total disrepair. Why, anybody would be hard pressed to take a single step without sinking into a hole or stubbing a toe on some rubble. "As ya c'n see, tha place's a little banged up, na much good fer another round'a competition, aye?" The large, rotund man clapped his hands together. "So looks like we're headin' ou'side fer our next match! Boomboomboomboom! We'll all escor' one another out ta tha courtyard hedge maze! Which means... Chaka Ram, yer up!"

The Buccaneer officer wearing the gas mask, full body armor, and dusty coat stood up, holding a rifle in their arms. "Yessir," they responded in a curt, calm, and confident tone. The kind of tone used by trained soldiers, those fully thrust into the lifestyle. At least that's what could be made out from the heavy distortion, as the mask had some sort of modulator disguising their voice. Chaka Ram began to lead the entirety of the Buccaneer Pirates, or at least those still uninjured and not attending to the injured, straight out the front gate of the large hall. Warily, Runch's crew also stood up and followed out, save for Runch. He did nothing warily, but threw himself cheerfully into the march, having a grand old time with it all.

Of course, each of the Red Rums were encouraged to move as well. Together everyone marched forward, out the door, then down a pathway they had seen on the way up to the castle, but hadn't had the luxury to explore. The walk took about five minutes, and they all arrived to an incredibly large hedge maze. Two entrances, side by side, clearly led off in entirely different directions. Just outside the maze stood another set of bleacher stands high enough to see over the entirety of the maze, where everyone was guided to take their seat. Only one remained standing: the owner of this contest, Chaka Ram.

Character Box

Chaka Ram "The Silencer"

Sharpshooter of the Buccaneer Pirates
Consumate professional. Very mysterious.

"My contest is simple. Paintball. We each get a gun and enter from one of two different entrances you see behind me. The contest lasts thirty minutes, or until we both run out of ammo. Limb shots score five points. Body shots score fifteen. Head shots are worth fifty points. Once the match is over, our bodies are inspected and points tallied. Obviously, the winner is whoever has the higher score. Who will be my first kill?"

Amidst the Krunch Krew, one member shook in anticipation, and annoyance. She stood up tall as she could, and while that was not very tall at all, it certainly was enough to draw attention, for she had such a commanding presence. "Ain't nobody gonna beat me in shootin'! 'Specially not some honky-ass creeper in a freaky mask!"

"We cannot see if they're white," Hachirou commented. "We cannot even tell if they are a man or a woman."

"Man, you focus on all the wrong details, bitch!" The honey badger tilted her hat back and hopped down the bleachers until she came face to knee with Chaka. "I'll put so many caps in yo ass that people'll be drinkin' cola from it!"

---

---

Smith cocked his head as Dirk rambled about, first about directions, then calling himself a worthless coward, finally providing a course of action for the duo to follow, heading that way with the conviction of a zealot. This gave the ninja pause for only a brief moment as he reconsidered following the directions of this clear lunatic. Regret was instant, but Smith had to admit that Dirk's thought process, destroying the cannons along the wall, was a good one. They would eventually be leaving this island, and in the case they were being chased away, it would benefit them to take out the enemy artillery.

Dirk could hear Smith grunting and heaving, shoving the cannons from their placements and over the wall, as the helmsman made his way to the next tower of the fortress. His steps punctuated with the crashing of large metal monsters against the stone wall, and rocky outcroppings beneath. He had finally reached the tower and opened up the door when another crash occurred, far louder and drowning out the cannon-destruction of Smith. That was because this crash had happened right before Dirk's very eyes.

The tower, which appeared to be a lookout point complete with spyglass, and a small den den mushi (likely only with enough range to cover the island to report to other sentries), had suddenly and irrevocably become wrecked as a large man wearing a tiger print coat blasted straight through the wall! He crashed onto the far end of the room, leaving huge cracks in the stone. His clothing and skin was blackened from some sort of gunpowder based explosion, and one of his legs had been completely shredded, clearing the epicenter of said explosion. It was bleeding out--badly. The man fell from the wall to the floor face first, unresponsive and with white eyes.

Reign: Kingdom Come

Marque de Bourdeaux

---

No. No no no. No no no no nononononono NO! So much death, so much suffering, gathered and left to stew, to coalesce, as though the machinations of a malevolent witch crafting her brew of pure malice and suffering. And Marque felt it. Emotions washed over mind and body, threatening to drown him like a pebble at the mercy of a great torrent. He dropped to knees, sobbing tears into leaves. Perhaps to an outside observer he appeared of weak constitution, or incapable of managing such grisly imagery. The truth would easily be lost on such ignorant to his hidden potential. It was not sight nor smell of such offal breaking him down. Nay, such honor belonged to the ghosts of the victims. Like a swamp of emotion, left behind after this atrocity, Marque could not avoid sinking in. He... He had to back away. To remove himself from such radiating despair, lest that be all which dominates his heart and soul for years to come.

Stumbling, the stage actor moved back, leaves crunching with every pounding beat of the heart, pumping fear across every pore. Once a certain distance had been attained, one of nearly forty feet, he spoke out to others in a voice quite shaky, for the lessened emotions had not been quelched entirely. "I find myself haunted by the spirits of these men, and cannot approach without madness. I seek a specific man, and pray he lies not amidst these deceased. He is known as Gardevoir, might you keep an open eye?"

Marque then went on to describe his mentor to the others, in hopes their vigilance could be his strength in this time of great weakness.

Gear

• cases of makeup
• Couple masks
• Two sets of clothes
• A wig
• Bag of coins
• "Proof" of affiliation to House Bryce
• Backpack
• 1 days trail rations
• Outdoor blanket
• Flask of water
• Overwhelming empathy attack

The Crucible - Winner Take All

The Cereal Killer

A wide grin slowly crept across the captain's face as he observed his former opponent slowly coming to. Such wonderful news it was to witness! Still, there was something to be said of the man's pride, if Juniper's parting words were any indication, and so Runch thought it best to step aside for a moment in order to let the knight see something other than the face of his heated enemy first. Cyril would likely need to get himself re-acclimated, and didn't need that shock to the system, yes?

Erina took notice of the vanguard's stirring as well, pulling herself from her meditation. She could only roll her eyes at the goofy sight of Runch creating a new bowl of cereal off to the side, ready to serve the Knight Sylvestre as a good morning gesture.

---

---

The Murder

Samuel had thankfully gotten away from the creatures of blackness summoned by the odd merchant, but the flight had left him hungrier than before. He had thought to hunt and prowl in the night for a potential food source, but once he had caught sight of similar beings creeping around the city streets, he thought better of it. This many hunting for me, for such a minor insult? No, it couldn't be. If that being were hunting for me this would be massive overkill, and he didn't seem the sort for that. Which must mean the old man's creatures are searching or something else... Assuming these are related to the ones he sicced on me.

Regardless as to his ponderings, the situation remained unchanged. He would have to camp out on a rooftop until morning, then seek out a meal. Terrorizing people left such a bad taste in his mouth, but... It certainly was better than the alternative. Without another thought, the magician set about perching himself in a suitable location, and let the sweet bliss of sleep drift over him...

Samuel awoke early the next morning from a dreamless sleep, the usual situation for creatures of his ilk. Yawning a small bit, he stretched out, losing his balance for a split second, then caught himself remembering where exactly he was. A frown formed on his face. A quick survey told him that the creatures of the night had gone away, a relief in itself, but not without creating some cause for alarm. Either they found what they had been seeking, or could not manifest in the daylight. Even if the latter was true, the chances were that they had discovered anybody he could use as a source of food. Samuel still sensed the kitsune's presence, but she and her... associate were deemed too dangerous to go after. Even if he fed from their fear, she was definitely the type to retaliate with extreme prejudice. Thus Samuel decided that he would be better off seeking someone else.

A large tower in the distance stood out as a noticeable landmark. Heading in that direction would be a good place to start...

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Verum Autem Ex

Leonard's motorcycle slowed to a stop as he pulled into the parking lot of the US National Arboretum, coming to a complete stop in the bike parking section. At that time he pocketed his keys, pulled off his helmet, and checked his cell phone. "The US National Arboretum, 446 acres in size with 9 miles of path and trail. The chances our target has chosen this precise location as venue are low enough.
The additional probability that we encounter him take a slim possibility and run it further toward the ground. Ergo, it would be prudent to separate for this search."

He pocketed his cellular phone, then slid off his motorcycle, followed by packing up his helmet into the bike's saddlebag. As he followed each motion, he continued to speak. "Knowledge fails to equate to experience. Therefore should you locate our target, do not engage by yourself. As our reports indicate he is already taking advantage of his stand, the idea that he outclasses you in stand combat at this point is a near certainty. You possess my business card, you can contact me. If you would, afford me a text message so that I might be able to make you aware of our target's presence as well."

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

Open Attendance for Protectorate and Ward Aligned Heroes Processing the Rockers

@Old Amsterdam@Lugubrious@solokolos@yoshua171@BCTheEntity@LemonZest1337

What a mess. What a god damn fucking mess. Director Kens stormed through the halls of the PRT in a half-rage. The Rockers had made a monumentally stupid decision to attack the PRT fundraiser with every hero in the city in attendance, like they had the firepower to actually win such a skirmish. How they had ever ended up taking over the city of Boulder was a complete mystery. And sure, they had been summarily trounced by the heroes stationed on site, but the Denver Arts Center had suffered in the battle. Why, even if the event had been allowed to somehow continue and raise the funds, it still wouldn't have covered the property damages! At least since parahumans had become a public commonality property insurance had been completely restructured to accommodate these events, but still, there was the medical costs for Overlook, and that independent hero G4M3R would have to be treated on their own insurance since he had suffered injuries during the PRT's event...

The director arrived at his final destination, just outside the holding cells where Ceramix and Shatterpoint were being processed. Nearby were Inkscape, Protean, and Captain Morales directing the PRT staff in their duties. Noble was nowhere to be found, but the director didn't dwell on this. "Update me on the situation," he commented, keeping his tone even out of concern that if he didn't overcorrect, his fury would take hold and he'd go home with another dry, cracked throat.

"Neither have been putting up a fight since they've been contained," Inkscape began. "And Decoy has been able to identify them."

Captain Morales handed Kens a docket, which he quickly began flipping through. His rage immediately subsided as the details had become clear to him. "Jesus Christ..." he muttered. "They're fucking kids."

Inkscape nodded in acknowledgement, while Protean shrugged. Morales offered a differing opinion. "Age aside, once you're pointing a gun at someone, taking hostages, and threatening lives, you've left your childhood behind."

Kens waved him off. "You've been a soldier too long, lost sight of what's important. We as a society, we failed these kids. If we hadn't, they wouldn't have turned out this way."

Nobody tried to fight the director on this point as he leafed through the details one more time, then glanced back into the one-way viewing glass of the two separate cells. Ceramix had taken to angrily punching the metal walls, frustration clear on his large, meaty face. Shatterpoint though, he was sitting on the mattress provided in his cell, legs crossed, counting the vertical lines in the mattress fibers and visibly shaking.

"Brock Jacks. Seventeen years old, his birthday is next month." Kens sighed. "This is his third offense. Combine that with his hostage tactic today, and there's not a jury or judge in this country that'll go soft on him. He's headed for the Birdcage for certain. Nothing we can do about it."

"Not to discredit your feelings director, but the punk deserves it," Protean commented. "He almost killed a lot of people today, and almost made good on his promise to kill his own people. That's just..." He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"Your input is... Acknowledged, Protean." The director didn't feel like fighting this time, and went back to checking the second profile they had dug up. He then focused on Shatterpoint in the cell. "Dexter Quintana. Fifteen years old, diagnosed with acute-to-moderate autism. First strike was busting Brock out of prison transport. This is his second. Maybe we can-"

"You're joking?" Morales cut in. "You want to show mercy to an enemy that's hospitalized two heroes today alone?"

Protean grit his teeth and leaned back, preparing for the tongue lashing that was sure to come. He didn't want any part of it. Inkscape merely stood by observing quietly. A nerve twitched in Kens' forehead as he shot a glance over to Morales. "How do you want to figure he triggered, Captain? The Boulder records indicate Shatterpoint has been active for nearly two years. Now you tell me, how do you think a thirteen year old kid with autism was treated? We have his hospital record right here! That boy was beaten so hard he had four cracked ribs, a punctured lung, and a severe concussion! Three months! Three months before the first appearance of Shatterpoint! Now do you think for one god damn second that he'd have done any of this if he had a supporting environment that helped his disability?!"

Kens had tossed the docket on the floor at the captain's feet. Protean started to inch away slowly, but the director got in the way to stop him.

"Rehabilitation is an avenue we should consider, yes," Inkscape jumped in to prevent the scene from escalating further. "But how do you recommend we go about it?"

Kens turned back to Ink. "Conversion. Integrate him in, issue mandatory therapy, and rebrand him. Of course, we'll need to reach out to his parents."

"Excuse me, sir," Morales spoke up again. "Are you suggesting that we recruit Mr. Quintana into the Wards program?"

Kens sighed deeply. "I am."

---

---

The Jacks Returning Home

@yoshua171@BCTheEntity@Eklispe@Old Amsterdam

Returning back to the Icehouse wasn't a long trip, despite the day having moved on to a busier time of day. Quite the opposite, in fact. It had seemed as though the Rocker's little disturbance at the hero fund raiser had gathered a great deal of attention, lessening traffic in their own section of town. The little things in life, right? Once they got back to base though, it was a whole other story. There were some boons to working out of a large bar, but there were some downsides too. Today's downside being the early day business crowd, the daydrinkers with nothing better to do with their time. It made meeting for business... Frustrating, since it couldn't be done in the main barroom proper. They would have to ascend to the upper level lofts where their private rooms had been setup, or head into the basement chambers. Of course since that's where the meeting room had been setup, along with the other illicit supplies the Broker had fashioned for the Jacks, no doubt that's where the instructions promised would have been left.

Xolotl remained unconscious the entire trip thanks to the concussion the Jacks had given him. Thankfully, to be sure. As he was it would have been easy to explain to passers by that he had simply had too much to drink too early, but if he had awoken and made a scene, well... Best not to dwell on consequences that never came up. He was easily secured in the basement, where the Jacks had found a normal manila envelope sitting on the briefing table, as per usual when the Broker had an assignment for them.

Each of the Jacks arrived in their own way. Chatterbox, Headhunter, Thunderbolt, and Whimsy... But one seemed conspicuously absent. Heartless was not present. Perhaps he was luring about in his shadow form? But such behavior was unusual for him, so it felt unlikely. Why was he missing? Regardless, the answer came as soon as someone had decided it was time to check the mission orders.

Esteemed employees,

One of your number will not be present during the reading of this mission briefing. No alarm is necessary, I have simply deemed that Heartless would be best deployed with another of my business ventures. In order to make up to you, I have hired on a new replacement who should make their presence known shortly after your own arrival. They have already been provided their own set of keys and fully briefed on the nature of your group. Enclosed is a photograph of the one you should be expecting, subsequently known as Alloy.

You likely have questions as to my social tactics in the meeting. Rest assured my favorite employees, the one who presented himself today is also in my employ, my doppelganger if you will, a volunteer who takes public risks deemed inappropriate for myself. Should you meet this man on the streets, provide no indication you recognize him, for he is a ghost, and as far as government documentation is concerned he does not exist.

Onto more relevant and pressing concerns, I thank each of you for setting up this meeting with Denver's underworld. I have gained a great deal, and shall only gain more as the investment continues to accrue interest. I indeed have another task for The Jacks to tackle. However, this task will not take place for another fifteen days, providing you each ample time in preparation. Until this day passes I ask that you maintain communication in the event that critical information regarding Patriarch's Community comes up, so that we might capitalize on such an opportunity.

Regarding your task in fifteen days, I must state that it is imperative you each maintain as strong public relations as is possible, given your respective backgrounds. This means not engaging in law enforcement whenever possible, and leaving injuries to a minimum when conflict is impossible. The importance of this instruction cannot be overstated. Your task, in fifteen days, relies upon not being despised by the public, for there is guaranteed to be a Class-A villain attack on Denver International Airport on that day, most likely around the noon hour. The Protectorate will not be able to mobilize quickly enough to engage this threat, and the airport provides vital transportation my network relies upon. Naturally you shall require public support for this engagement, and the Protectorate shall be incapable of bringing their full might against the Jacks in the event you are public heroes.

Burn after reading,
Broker.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Verum Autem Ex

With purpose, Leonard moved toward his parked motorcycle, Mieke trailing behind. The situation was one which required great care and tact, which he could most definitely provide, but the question remained: could she? A young woman, ignorant even to the nature of her own stand, a desperate ploy at scraping the barrel on the Speedwagon Foundation's accord. No, she would not be able to assist in any meaningful manner, and would in fact be a major detriment. That is, at least, in her current situation. Leonard could change that. He had already promised to explain stands in greater detail, but why not take things one step beyond?

The artistic mercenary opened up the right side saddlebag of his bike, and put on his helmet. Once that was done, he pulled out his notebook and a pen, turned a few pages in, and carefully jotted something down in it. He then turned to the next page, and jotted something else, albeit a smaller piece. Once that was done, Leonard yanked out the paper and handed it to Mieke. "Apologies for the abrupt nature of this endeavor, however we have little luxury of time and a great deal for you to ascertain. This note shall explain far more about stands than I could convey to you in words."

On the front of the note, Miek would see two symbols paired closely together, though given her background it was unlikely she would understand the Nordic rune or Japanese kanji associated. The first was the symbol for fire, specifically inner fire, which represented mastering ones own energies in knowledge and learning. The second symbol represented the concept of magic and the supernatural. Paired together, Leonard believed that Free Bird could bestow a wealthy helping of knowledge on the young girl. At first it would likely be false knowledge, the "illusion" of knowledge, but after Free Bird evolved, after it took the time to solidify into reality, it should become real knowledge.

The back of the note had another Nordic rune. this one representing great luck. With that, after several minutes of solidifying into reality, Mieke herself should become Leonard's own personal good luck charm... Or maybe she would just start seeing horseshoes following her around. Free Bird was rather flighty and unpredictable that way, but Leonard had an idea that it would help guide the two of them to their destination.

"Sit behind me," he explained, mounting the bike. "And hold on tightly. We shall be visiting each of the gardens and arboretums one by one to observe, beginning with the closest to our position." Once the young girl had secured herself, they were off.

The Crucible - Winner Take All

The Cereal Killer

As twilight fell to nighttime, Runch had made a point to take up shelter where he felt safe with Erina and the still unconscious Cyril. The previous night gave way to a massive storm which nearly drowned him, he was not about to take such a risk again, and so set about creating a fine structure from the top of a building. There with his bori bori powers he ensured a drainage system to keep any flood waters away, and a comfortable dwelling from which they each could sleep that night. While his caution certain had been warranted, the suspected danger turned out to be something completely different, for no storm clouds raged upon the world this night. Rather, shadowy spectres of creatures, large and small, formed among the streets. The pirate captain inquired Erina for her expertise, but she could not identify them without a closer inspection. Only one detail could be provided from the kitsune: whatever they were, they were not ghosts. At least none she had been familiar with.

Runch kept a close eye when he could, spying the figures as they moved about in a neverending patrol. Thankfully none came up to his dwelling, and so they remained safe. However, despite the things' off putting appearances, they felt strangely familiar. It wasn't until halfway through his nights sleep that Runch realized why. They took the forms of many individuals he recalled seeing at the gathering, before they had all been dispersed throughout the city. Then these were... Losers? The thought began to creep into his head, a nagging feeling of discomfort. What actually happened to the losers that these things were spawning at night in such great numbers? He would have to wait until morning before dwelling further on the matter. No rest meant accomplishing nothing during the day.

---

Several beeps stirred Runch from his deep sleep, jolting him upward. No sooner had his mind focused on the reality of the waking world did the announcer's voice come in from his nearby escort drone. Semi-finals, eh? Only two more battles. Well, two more "official" battles. More College staff could find him, or whatever else this bizarre city had lurking in it. Wait, the city! Runch practically jumped toward the window, gazing out to inspect the streets. The shadowy spectres from last night were gone, no trace left. Peculiar.

Then the drone's voice caught Runch's attention again, as Oren took on an entirely new tone and persona. It had thrown the pirate for a moment, being so used to the man projecting something altogether more upbeat and bombastic. Oren didn't tell anything Runch hadn't already found out for himself, but the idea that Oren knew himself, well, that at least said something in itself. The captain pondered, slumping back against the artificial wall he had constructed the previous night, as to the course of actions he would take moving forward. His drone was clearly pointing toward a new opponent (though it seemed to be malfunctioning giving its erratic movement) and so he could most definitely progress forward that way. Then again, Oren just admitted that there was something else going on that the College had no control over, and limited knowledge about. It would be incredibly selfish to forge onward for a wish in the face of such a mystery that affected them all. What if the machine was far more nefarious than anyone knew? And of course, there was Sir Cyril Boniface, still unconscious from his injuries in their battle the previous day. Runch swore to take care of the man until he recovered, and fully intended to fulfill that promise.

That settled the matter, then. The captain glanced around over to the two makeshift beds he had made for his traveling companions. Cyril remained asleep, while Erina had been up, apparently in some sort of meditation. He wouldn't bother her for now, and approached Cyril to check on the knight's well being. "Are you able to move?" he asked, in hopes the vanguard would suddenly spring to life and do a jig. Of course, he checked for vitals as best he could as well. If Cyril did awaken, then that would be a most splendid development, sweeter than the finest fruit! If he did not, then the captain knew what he would have to do: carry the man back to his ship, The Guppy, where his very own crew physician could provide care. Yes, that would be best.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Verum Autem Ex

As Louis Armstrong asked for any final questions, Leonard only shook his head in the negative, ready to begin the assignment. The group was ushered out the door, and Leonard took special care in not stepping on, or getting struck by, the crocodile's tail. Something told him that while it would only be uncomfortable for the swamp creature, such a mistake could be disastrous for himself.

Once outside, Arthur elected himself as the first to speak, expressing interest in procuring one of the vans Armstrong had suggested, while confessing his own lack of personal transport. "Indeed, such action would behoove yourself, as well as our reptilian ally. Should either Miss Blue or the younger Miss desire transport, my motorbike may carry one additional passenger, though I find myself abashed to admit I've no spare helmets for your protection." Beep. A vibration in his pocket signaled Leonard that he had just received a text message, something they all had in common it had appeared. He yanked the phone from its placement, and made himself informed of the details Armstrong had sent each of them.

He listened intently to what Arthur had to say, nodding in acknowledgement. "Fine ideas all, in order to expedite our search. Should such efforts be in vain however, I would worry not. Stand users attract stand users, after all. I remain confident our quarry shall be within our grasp before the clock strikes twelve and we all become the proverbial pumpkin." He pocketed his cell phone then, and took a first step toward the door he had originally entered from, waving on for whoever was going to come with him. "I shall be checking the gardens and greenhouses from the streets aided by my stand, Free Bird. Should you desire contact, you already have my card."

Capes of Denver: A Worm RP

@ProPro

My mistake, I definitely missed that. I thought I could get away with doing little reading but that's sadly not the case. I'm gonna go ahead and drop out in order to avoid making the same mistake.

@Xandrya

This really isn’t that extreme of a mistake. A simple edit would do just fine. But yes, you do generally want to read everything in the updates that concern your own character to avoid these situations. Even so, everyone will still make said mistakes and miss out on details. Hell, the update before this last one I missed some important details I should’ve addressed as the GM, so it happens. We just hashed it out OOC in the Discord chat and all was well.

If you have other reasons for wanting to drop, then alright, your decision and whatnot, but if it’s just this, that’s pretty disproportionate a reaction and I’d greatly prefer you stick around.