Recent Statuses

7 mos ago
Current I just force Bork or Shiva to RP when I need a GM.
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7 mos ago
I think the main thing with any IC is a good pitch, I've joined plenty of RPs because the pitch was good (but rarely do I care about how pretty the thread is).
9 mos ago
Some questions are just curve balls though. Traditionally the answer to "Do you support white supremacy?" is an easy no, unless you're either an idiot or racist or probably both.


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Nora felt a flash of confusion as Solange questioned her. She could hear the mockery in the other woman's voice. There was a cruelty to her humor and no kindness in her banter. Nora had dealt with worse. She had heard worse words thrown and spat at her. Criminals were as a rule far from well-mannered and the bandits of the Yhemerian Desert were not known for their kindness. Insults did not move her, but she had learned that she could not back down when challenged. Reputation and what might pass for honor among thieves were blades she kept carefully sharpened. She would not permit some common whore to chip and shatter her weapons. She could not let such a slight on her person go unmarked and she would not. A hand moved in a warding gesture and Nora considered the what price Vargas would demand if she cut the woman laughing at her down.

"I think you have mistaken me for someone else, harlot," Nora warned, staring down at Solange. The dessert bandit felt a growing disappointment. She had not asked to be saddled with a childish mad woman. She had expected some degree of professionalism in her new companions. She had hoped too much. She would not make the mistake again. She would not lower her guard. She would watch the courtesan carefully. Skarsat could drag Solange in chains onto the ship for all that she cared. Rags shoved into her mouth would shut her up well enough.

"I think perhaps you have misunderstood. Allow me to clarify," Nora said. Her right hand rested on the pommel of one of her swords and her lips were pursed in a grim smile. She looked politely displeased and violence danced behind her eyes.

"Vargas wants you on the ship," she said jabbing a finger roughly into Solange's shoulder in a sudden burst of movement.

"Vargas wants all of you on the ship. Vargas wants all of you brought back. Vargas wants his fair share of the profits," Nora added gesturing broadly with her arms as she loomed over Solange. "And he shall have all of these things."

"Dear lady," the bandit said with sarcasm dripping venomously from her voice. "You may be his business partner, but such titles will not protect you if you mock me again. Vargas prefers his property to be in pristine condition. I understand this. It is the way of men with wealth and power. Drunk as they are on wealth and water. But there are limits to my patience and I do not owe you mercy."

"I am sure Vargas will still find you to his tastes even if I return you missing an ear or perhaps some fingers," Nora began, mirroring a cutting motion with her left hand. She laughed, forging her anger into cruelty. "You will still be another pretty thing for him to keep here, for some time at least."


Nora stepped into the meeting with the faintest hint of a frown as she saw the mountain of food arrayed across the table. Vargas was drowning with water. Only a man so heavy with excess would think to waste so much on food. The softness of the city dwellers, the endless water they possessed without thought, filled her with a familiar current of irritation. What a great mystery it was that such a weak people could rule over such a broad range of land.

The Zherpanian bandit offered a brief nod to Skarsat and Solange as she sat down at the table. Dressed to the nines despite the early hour, she was wrapped in cloth and armor with freshly sharpened weapons on her hips. Her mind already on the lengthy voyage ahead of them. There was much to plan. There was much to prepare for. And there were as many problems to anticipate as there were stars in the sky. She filled her plate thoughtfully, deliberately choosing from the freshest fruits and meats laid atop the table. Nora knew well how quickly fresh food became rare on an expedition. She would relish what she could.

Biting down on an apple, it struck her then that only two members of their newly minted party were there. The painted woman, the harlot, had returned with all her charms and tricks. The woman was a dangerous mystery and Nora watched her with caution. She was uninterested in her chosen profession, how a woman earned her coin was her own concern. However, something about Solange spoke of unconstrainted ambition. She was like Vargas, drunk on her own dreams. And she was too clever. She spoke much, perhaps too much, and Nora couldn't help but suspect she would be trouble. Attacking the grapes on her plate as she continued to think, Nora nodded respectfully at Skarsat. She was pleased to see the large Tork at the table. Reliability was rare among thugs. She did not yet know the full measure of the giant man, but she suspected she would soon enough.

"Percival," she said loudly, making no move until she heard the familiar shuffle of his feet across the floorboards.

"Yes, Nora."

"We seem to be a smaller party this morning than we were last night. Would you tell me please where our lost friends are?"

"Here," Percival began. "S- Still here in the Faded Lantern that is...I mean."

"I do not see, Neh’miah at this table," Nora said. "Do you see him here, Percival?"

"Ah...I am afraid he is asleep," Percival said.

"Wake him up," Nora growled, turning towards Percival with bared teeth.

"I tried. I knocked on his door, but he didn't answer," Percival stammered. "I have returned three times to his door since then, to no avail I must regretfully report. He is beyond my reach."

Nora's lips shifted into a deep frown as Percival detailed his failures. Drink in plenty was as ever the greatest danger to any criminal endeavor. Vargas had given her a task though. She wouldn't fail so soon. She would drag the midnight revelers of the party onto the ship in chains if she had to. They could die at sea, but not a moment sooner. she would not allow it.

"Dare I ask where Y'vanna is?" Nora said, waving a hand hopelessly in the air.

"Last I saw she was headed to one of the unoccupied rooms on the second floor."

"Alone?" Nora said, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"I am afraid not, but I made sure that they paid for the room before I gave them the key."


"And some others..."

"Others!?" Nora hissed, cursing beneath her breath. She toke some small solace in the familiar feel of Zherpanian words rolling in anger off of her tongue. An unhappy expression played across her features as she contemplated the task Vargas had assigned her. Perhaps it would have been easier if he had asked her to herd a group of cats. Nora let out a low breath, before she she stuffed the remainder of food on her plate into her mouth with the well-practiced grace of a bandit used to eating in whatever limited span of time was allotted. Satisfied that she had at least wasted nothing, she pushed back from the table in a quick motion and rose to her feet. Standing, she grabbed hold of the Percival's shoulder and shoved him towards Skarsat.

"Skarsat, I must apologize for interrupting your breakfast, but would you be so kind as to accompany Percival to the room of our wayward thief, Neh'miah?" Nora began, offering a slight smile. "I am afraid it is far past the appropriate hour for sleeping. You may wake him in whatever manner you wish, but please bring him here undamaged."

"I will attend to our two other lost colleagues. The hour is too late for lazy depravity, we have much to do before we set sail, and precious little time for foolishness such as this. I know where Y'Vanna hides, I know her many vices, and I know how to handle her when she has had her fun."

"Thank you for the warm welcome, Commander Shaw, it is a pleasure to be here," Clara interrupted, raising her voice just enough to be sure that Abigail couldn't cut in again. She offered a sly smile in the direction of the other woman and the faintest hint of an apologetic shrug. Bickering over leave could wait as far as she was concerned. She had a MAS to test. She had data to examine. She had settings to tweak. She had no time to slow down. And she had never cared much for drinking in some crummy space station. Sustained g forces provided enough dizziness for her to manage.

Rising out of the chair she had occupied on one end of the briefing room table, Clara turned from Shaw to the rest of the squadron, "I look forward to getting to know all of you over the next couple of weeks and I hope my transition into this squadron will prove uneventful."

"But please, call me Clara," she added.

Sounds good!
Hey everybody, its been a bit quiet so I thought I'd ask this now before we continue moving on:

Are people still interested in this RP? I know we've sorta had a lot of stopping and starting prior to getting off the ground, so the momentum might've stalled. People's interests change, inspiration/motivation dies, its all typical Guild stuff. Part of me thinks a whole ass restart might be needed to get the steam flowing again. Anyway yeah, just thought I'd get everyone's general feel.

I'm on the road until this evening, but I'm still interested. :D

I can easily roll with either posting or doing some sort of soft/hard restart.
[X] - Ada Beaumont (The Part-Time Purifier)

A most worthy quest for someone as venerable as we no doubt are.
Heyo, how are things with everybody?

I am alive! Which is great!

In terms of posting, my plans are too have Clara pop in as a new person to the unit, maybe throw in some references to her MAS.

TL;DR: Clara says, "Sup, yo."
“Dude, I’m an informant with no one to inform. Do you know that that’s like? Do you have any idea?! Gods, help me.”

Tfw you go undercover and then the people who hired you peace out.
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