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Recent Statuses

24 days ago
Current I haven't tried in forever, is Wendy the saltiest of the fast food fries?
3 mos ago
Calle gone mad with power.
2 likes
8 mos ago
wtf, man.
8 mos ago
Friendly reminder you can minimize the status bar and it goes away.
6 likes
8 mos ago
My big critique is TLJ. XD
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Bio

Turn off your mind, relax, and float down stream...

Arena Stats

1 Wins / 0 Losses / 0 Draws
1100 points

Most Recent Posts

Of the five staterooms on the 1st Deck Henry was given the fourth down from the door to the weatherdeck and the stairs. Desks and accents and doors were a dark stained cherry wood, fixtures and switches all the same simple copper finish. The carpet was light and sandy and short fibered yet plush all the same, bathrooms were attached though they were little more than toilet and shower closets with an awkward sink.

Eva was the fifth stateroom from the stairs, the last one, though the stateroom was otherwise no different than the others--save for a slightly larger bathroom for Nicole to shower the funk of the LA Port off and slip into fresh clothes. She never caught Henry emerge, she watched the second helicopter of the evening briefly land. Two women emerged, to her eye’s obvious Kindred just from the surreal ease in which they all but slipped and shrugged out of the helicopter, never once worrying about the blades...a real concern at sea despite the calm state of the waters just outside the Port of Los Angeles waterways. The buoys marking the western edge of the maritime corridor were no more than fifty feet away.

Where Eva sat it was all right in front of her, minus Tina, the bartender tending the yacht’s bar on the 1st Level--the area of the boat arrived at from taking the stairs up, instead of down for the staterooms of the 1st Deck. The 1st Level interior was entirely the bar, and a large lounge with various screens and parallel white sectional sofas, the walls lined with shelves filled with a hodgepodge of books read and shared by small crew and coterie, blue-rays and DVDs, and scripts.

The Captain was no fan of the ship being so close to the wake of larger vessels. They had simply been waiting. As Yanci and Rachel walked around the 1st Level of the exterior to the back of the boat, through the door to the lower level and deck, up the stairs, through the lounge, and into the bar surrounded on most sides by rounded glass. Los Angeles glared in the distance, smoldering with the orange and red glow of fire. Southern California residents knew that particular sky far too well. Tina walked out just before the two arrived.

“Are we sure?”, was how it started. The words were spoken sharply by Yanci, dark eyed and dark featured, her hair in long waves and overflowing her shoulders by a few inches, wearing acid wash jeans near baggy legged and a dark blue wool sweater that stopped at her midriff.

Rachel wore a Prada charcoal pants suit, the pants fitted and finished with a gold plated hollow centered buckle,the blouse black silk and hanging off her shoulders just far enough to hint at curves underneath instead of outright show them; her straight cut bob a dirty blonde and undyed.

The style differences only hinted at deeper differences. And made Eva feel oddly appropriate after a change to black tights with a fine black mesh along the sides shaped like smoke rising up to the thinnest smoke tendril at her knee and a simple white sleeveless shirt simple white Reebok classics on the feet that were resting on the bar. Eva didn’t turn until she shrugged. “As sure as I can be.”

“We’ll be ready if it goes badly,” the tone bordered on cocky as Dre just breezed past the two ladies for a seat at one of the cherrywood tables with matching chairs just off the bar and next to the glass. His clothes were as simple as dark loose jeans, brown boots, and a black teeshirt.

“Which it could. Very badly.” Rachel didn’t look up from the phone, but even she had to admit it.

Mateo was the dandy; purple velvet vest, black dress shirt unbuttoned a few buttons down from the top, dress slacks, calf high boots of polished leather and gold buckles. “We know who they are. We know they don’t know much about Eva.” The exchange of glances between Maty behind the bar and Dre and Yanci, in particular, was fun for Eva. Even if it just kinda meant Maty squirmed for a moment.

Eva had to rescue him. “It could all go very badly. Big gambles are big gambles for a reason. If it works out...we have a chance. If it doesn’t...I don’t see a path.”

“And they may know enough to actually make life suck for a bit,” Matty shrugged, thinking it over, the shrug making his waist length black hair dance for just a second.

“Tell me this isn’t just the next thing, Eve,” Yanci’s gaze wasn’t kind, it wasn’t cold, it was just anxious and darting and scared. “I get the chosen bit, it’s one of our favorite cliches. Those scripts on those shelves are filled with them. We both know how that normally turns out. So what if this goes beyond the pale?”

Eva smiled, if only because what else was left to her? “No clue, Yance. I don’t see a path without their help. So many of them will die if we don’t try. I can’t not try. If you can’t…” Eva’s hands went instantly up near her shoulders, palms out, innocence proclaimed by gesture. “Not to say you’d ever bail. But--”

“--yeah, I get it. I just don’t think it’s good enough. Dre is always superman, until he’s not and he breaks and our security forces break. It’s happened. We survived on luck during the King riots. LUCK. WE WILL NOT GET THAT LUCKY AGAIN. Rachel is afraid we’re the only thing she’ll ever have left in a life she gets to pick, and Matty believes in you. Like I believe in you. But right now I can’t tell if this is really the crazy gambit we want to make or if you’re just being Eva, the first of the Hollywood divas.”

The cocktail table Dre sat at almost did not survive the thunderclap slam his palm struck upon it’s surface as his temper snapped. “WE SURVIVED. Sometimes that’s a matter of luck. That’s the way it works, girl. I’m sorry, but this ain’t helping shit. You been pissed off for months. Life’s never going back to the way it was. That’s not always such a bad thing.”

“The end of the world doesn’t sound fun,” Matty’s voice was a gentle and measured thing after silence hung in the air for long moments, tipping off the curious and problem solving mind behind it, “You’re right, Yanci. I believe she’s right. I believe she’s picked, and why she was is a question we need to ask and answer. I get why she hides from the greater Kindred society. I know what it feels like to not belong to it. Whatever we can salvage...for us, for them...certainly I’m the newest of us yet I cannot help but feel confident in saying this is who and what this coterie is. Just trying is what we would do. Help. Keep ours as safe and normal as possible in the process. We’ve worked for a while to outfox the Inquisition digitally. I’m confident in our work.”

“There’s no stopping them. I have to try to manage it and take care of them.”

Rachel’s pained amusement made Yanci shake her head, and sit down at the other cocktail table. “Okay.”

For now, Eva thought, it would have to be enough. Henry and Nicole were stirring. “We’ll see what Henry has to say.”

“And Nicole?”

Every pair of eyes in the bar went to Eva. If she could have blushed…”I guess so.”


One habit Grace had acquired was a tendency to judge people by where they liked to discuss business. The fact she was willing to meet with someone who chose the lounge of a yacht showed how far things had diverged from normal circumstances. Julie and the helicopter had returned home, Grace had gotten to the yacht by other means. A quick cost-benefit analysis was what guided that decision, the stakes demanded that someone go to the meeting, but the risks involved meant that exposure should be minimized. Julie’s inexperience wouldn’t add enough value to justify the added risk. Even Grace, with her many layers of precautions, felt uneasy standing in the doorway of the lounge. She wore one of the outfits she always did, selected to be as generic and unmemorable as possible, unbranded and composed entirely of shades of black and grey.
As she scanned the room the roster of Eva’s friends looked different from how Grace remembered them from their first meeting, back a sunset, but the intelligence files she had offered no explanation. The one with the most detailed file was Rachel, but it was almost entirely about her mortal life, from the days when she had been seen as a potential recruit to the cause. Old information, but not without value. It would be easier talking to her than trying to understand the network of social interactions unfolded before her; Eva was the center of everything but to understand all of centuries worth of accumulated details and norms was not practical. Grace only had time for what could be measured, not ill-defined social ties. When there was a pause, she walked near Rachel and said:
“Miss Fields, it is nice to see you again. It’s a shame that our interests don’t allow us to work together more often, if certain events had been different we may have been part of the same organization, in the same cohort even. If we had met twenty years ago I’m sure we’d be discussing Harvard’s infamous Math 55 course and comparing our scores on the Putnam Exam, but I do not know if you are the same person those old files depict. I have other concerns these days, and I believe you do also.”
Rachel could internally debate the likelihood of a 'chosen one', but she had maxed out her allotment of eye rolling for the day already--and if Mateo was to be believed being 'chosen' was unlikely to end well; just look at Caine, the logic went. So when the human magic user walked over and began speaking, Rachel actually smiled at the distraction.

Distraction was welcome, interest piqued was quite another thing when Grace brought up old files. "Old files on me? How flattering." Unlike Eva and Yanci, Rachel's tone was nearly void of the emotions the two Toreadors rode upon the unlife with.

But the line of 'I do not know if you are the same person those old files depict'...actually made the Ventrue laugh. A full, hard, if short lived, bark of laughter before quickly returning to her former composure. "Wow. Um...yeah, I'm mostly the same. Except for not being alive, I suppose, and a taste for blood."

"And fangs," Dre chimed into the chat he wasn't part of, but was overhearing all the same, as he stared a hole into the table at which he was seated.

"Ah, right, and fangs. I'm not that old. Eva tells me about the Anasazi people of early North America, Yanci recalls California before it was ever part of the US. Andre is a former slave and soldier of the Civil War. I'm a child relative to that, and too young to have begun to lose who I am to the 'monster' yet. The older you live as one of us, the further away from the human you were you find yourself. There are very rare exceptions; such as Eva. But me? I'm still me. Just less naive."

Grace was happy that the conversation was smoother than she thought it would be. Although they were close to the same age, neither spent much time with the typical concerns of someone approaching middle age in terms of human years. Grace continued with the formal pattern, if things got slow she could always fall back on the few jokes about Harvard and Stanford she knew.
“After this, if things are more relaxed and any of your friends wish to use some their experiences to correct errors with current historical studies regarding those time periods, they are welcome to contact me. I can nudge the scholarly consensus in the correct direction.”
“As for changes, I’m always wary about how reliable anyone can be when analyzing themselves. Memory is troublesome, it’s not as though people can store them in a Merkle tree so they can guarantee their integrity.” Silently, Grace corrected herself. Most people can’t. “Anyway, if you still have your taste for philosophy, this all reminds me of a famous hypothetical.
Are you familiar with Donald Davidson’s Swampman thought experiment? If you take a human and create an exact replica down to the last particle of matter, is it the same person as the original? If the copy remains and the original dies, is that person still alive? And would that copy, holding all of the memories and personality of the original but having experienced none of their actual life, even know anything was amiss? It’s an interesting idea that crops up in all sorts of places, including the works of a particularly irritating British comic book author and self-styled anarchist wizard who has so far managed to avoid our attempts to eliminate him. I’ve yet to see if any of that makes it into the TV adaptation of Swamp Thing.“

"Ask Yanci. At the moment she's managing Hollywood. I do know she's no fan of Mr. Moore; you can't be in this coterie and avoid comic books. For example if you think Kevin Feige is a mere mortal and not a conduit of greater artistic expressions and media minds...well."

Rachel shrugged, preferring to say no more on that subject lest she violate the privacy of Hollywood's creative circles. Especially the more hidden circles.

"I remember first getting exposed to the idea in Star Trek. Now Eva and Yanci have it popping up in modern classics like Rick & Morty." The word 'classics' had a certain exaggeration when spoken; though Rachel was cautious not to go further.

Yanci was quite fond of the adult oriented cartoon.

"As for after this...I don't know. That was the heated discussion we just let go: how suicidal is this? What if the Inquisition knows more about us than we think? What if they care more about studying Eva than helping her save the world? She wants to walk right into an Inquisition higher-up meeting. Lay the situation out to them. Not unlike what she did with you. I think we're waiting on Henry and Nicole to chime in."

"And her."

The addition came out of Eva’s mouth, even as her attention appeared as if it stayed on her quiet chat with Mateo at the bar the whole time. "Yes, obviously, yourself included."

The quiet lapping of waves and the gentle roll of the boat from time to time the only other sounds besides the low dull hum of the yacht’s engines.

Scientific literature was the only media Grace consumed for fun. Not that she’d had much fun lately. The best ones were too classified to share anyway. Grace avoided looking at Nicole, not quite apologizing about the ejection ; that was just a way to make sure that the helicopter and her subordinate were secure while allowing their passenger to get to her destination. She said
“Your chance of success rests on how persuasive you can be. I have reason to believe you are quite effective at that, even if I don’t know the specifics of your methods.” Grace’s belief in that was why she always took such precautions when meeting with vampires. Finding out how powerful they could had only increased this drive to be prepared.
She continued.

“Aside from that, you can try and plan, hedge your efforts to lessen the impact of a failure, but never assume you have a deeper bag of tricks than your adversary. That kind of hubris kills operations. So, what exactly do you want from the Inquisition? Just for them to stay out of your way, or do you see a role for them? I might be able to help but I admit I don’t spend much time thinking about them, they’re kind of like our mentally unstable cousin.”

Eva wore a gray short sleeved button up, slim fitted gray slacks, and black matte heels with a gray bottom. There was a smart watch on her left wrist provided by the Digital boys and girls. Her hair was straight, pulled back and pinned by a bright red clip. She stood flat against the sand colored back wall of the Los Angeles Emergency Operations Center in light that was dimmed more than it's usual fluorescent glare. She was little more than a gray ghost on a field of sand as far as the almost fifty people in the room were aware. Jeff Berger had been talking to the CEO of Los Angeles County and one of the County Supervisors among a Board of five when he mentioned it was strange there was such an outbreak when the air in the county wasn't all that dry, more humid from an El Nina airflow.

It wasn't natural.

Screens large and larger still covered most the walls. Between Eva and the biggest of the screens was a giant bullpen of neatly rowed desks filled with computers and screens upon screens. The action was fevered but not out of control. This was not a frenetic moment, this was a hive of ants going into a controlled frenzy with a focused outcome in mind. They weren't going to let the fire hit Los Angeles, if they could help it. They called John Ketterman, owner of the largest private fire brigade on the West Coast. The moment county and city officials hung up with him, the phone rang again to tell him every private fire brigade in the state was moving towards LA County.

Rachel reappeared next to her, leaning in with a hint of Tom Ford perfume and excitement, "The Governor hasn't issued any orders to the National Guard in the area but the fire departments are none-the-less moving. This will be the most expensive fire prevention action in history based on the bonus you're providing the private fire companies alone. I wish I knew why we were spending that kind of money."

Eva couldn't help the little smile. "Because something needs to happen in this city."

"What needs to happen?"

The smile only crept larger. "I don't know." The following shrug dismissed the amusement of the smile, "Lubbock. Let Andre know." There were a number contingencies that would be put into effect.

"You're going to have to move up the timeline regarding the Inquisition." Rachel stole a long look at Eva's face as she said it, looking for the reaction that never came. At least, it never showed. Eva's internal grimace may have remained internal but odds were the old coterie mate felt it all the same.

No use in hiding the sigh, "Yeah. I'll have to warn Grace."

"Have to?" Rachel's brows slanted in concern. "I know they haven't been hostile, and maybe you showed them some things, but...it seems unnecessary. It seems like a risk."

Eva's eyes sank in every screen and display in the Emergency Operations Center. "There's nothing left to us but risk now, Rach." She might have reached out to comfort the girl had the earpiece not blinked with cold blue light to indicate a new call. There was a certain amount of fun, and if she was behing honest, pride, as she stood back and watched Rachel appear behind the Fire Coordinators along the third row of desks and monitors in the bullpen of the command center. It was just a few whispers into the ear of a human, and then the Fire Coordinators spread among the room with new information and new plans. With so many private assets bring brought to bear so quickly the actual State and Federal fire fighters could focus on the main fire line and not the pockets of homes inside the hills.

It was no sure thing, but the odds were at least closer to their favor now. Rachel caught up with her in the parking lot, as she sweet talked a guard about why she didn't have a security pass on her windshield and why that was okay. Very quickly they started talking about the vintage midnight black Corvette with the back fin spoiler instead of the missing security pass stickered to it's windshield like everyone else's. Rachel smiled and wished the guard a goodnight as the two climbed into the car and the car started in silence. They talked a little about some weird signals from various Sabbat in the area, Eva tried to explain what exactly Yanci was dealing with in Palm Springs on a movie set. By the time they reached Rachel's car, the girl was no closer to understanding why the actors and the editor didn't just do what the director was going for, although she had to agree trashing a hotel room in a coked up rage was probably a bad impression on your crew.

Eva always knew where she was headed, it was the same place she went on the first Thursday of every other month and right now Lakewood sounded like the place to live if you weren't fond of the threat of fire. In a small one bedroom apartment a dozen or so blocks from the Port of Los Angeles. The apartment complex wasn't very large; the small size and dependency on cement and facade as part of the design a large hint as to the decade of when it was initially constructed. She had owned it for a few years, apparently it was useful of money laundering purposes. Dusty had lived there for a little over threes years.

There were a few Dusty's. Not Dusty, exactly, but kine with which Eva had a lasting friendship. Dusty was from Nacogdoches, Texas, and had grown up helping his father and uncle harvest and replant pine trees. A tour in the Navy, some civilian cargo sailing, and now Dusty helped to manage the unload of cargo from ships into the Port of Los Angeles. In terms of boots on the working floor, Dusty was a bit of a boss. He made around sixty thousand a year, give or take, and worked longer hours than any office 9 to 5 gig. The sun had been hotter than expected today, so she'd heard, and Dusty looked it. In an old black teeshirt that was nearing dark grey around the underarms with a few little holes towards the bottom of the shirt where it had snagged on this crane or that forklift or that shipping crate during the movement of the work day.

He was tall, a goofy kind of handsome, and spoke with an East Texas accent as thick as the sap of Texas pine. He knew a rough Mexican Spanish, though he'd learned it from a girlfriend back home in Texas. Or was it the first wife? Eva had lost count. Usually they talked about Los Angeles, and California beyond, culture and society. It blew his mind, and Eva admitted a real joy in seeing the world through Dusty's eyes. She had never fed on him, he wasn't her type. She had never really thought about it. Next Wednesday she was supposed to see Sarah, the waitress turned restaurant assistant manager and occasional actress, if acting classes and mostly open auditions on the weekends counted as occasional actress.

Eva thought it did. Eva thought it was the heartbeat of acting as an artform. Before the Kid forced everything to change forever Eva would sit in on auditions, and sometimes audition herself. It was a more organic, naturally flowing thing then the 60s and 70s when she and a handful of young actors and actresses got deep into method acting. Those were desert nights, and hallucinations that Eva was certain she'd never match. Now it seems innocent, looking back, given the visions Eva had these days. And they had nothing to do with acting or art anymore.

Eva always brought her own beer. Yancy knew a kindred and ghoul brewing partnership in the Valley that had an especially high degree of knowledge in what worked and what didn't work for Kindred. The glass was dark brown, the bottles unremarkable. Dusty had tried one once, said it gave him a weird headache.

Most nights they talked, but tonight was different. Tonight instead of his back porch they sat on small patch of concrete outside his front door in folding yard chairs. He nursed a bottled beer and alternated between drags on his cigarette and drags of pot on his one-hitter. She had asked him as he finished his cheeseburger when she walked in if he was okay if she handled some business out front. Dusty didn't know what she did. He told her, once, he figured she was some kind of high powered Hollywood exec. When she told him the truth of it all, he didn't say anything until she was completely done talking. Then, after a long moment, he had smiled with bloodshot eyes and politely thanked her for never eating him.

Tonight there were no details, only vague warnings. That was unlike Eva. As unlike Eva as her asking to conduct business outside his apartment. "Just take the vacation. Yellowstone sounds nice. It's away from most major population centers." There were other things in Yellowstone, but Eva hoped the best for the werewolves and the mages and the ghosts and every other bump in the night. He was shaking his head, deep in thought, when the two black Cadillac SUVs came slowly into the parking lot and stopping just feet away from there. Andre slipped out of the first SUV's front passenger side door, his jeans dark, his LeBron's loud, broad shoulders covered in a dark Nike tee with windbreaker on over it. His head motioned to the driver side back door as he came around the SUV, and opened the door he had motioned to.

"Hello Tara."

She was bloody, bruised. Restrained. Eva was soft spoken, sweetly toned and smiling. Whether it was genuine or genuine condescension was anyone's best guess. Andre's voice rumbled quietly as he spoke to Tara and Eva in his low pitch. Tara's voice was too quiet to escape beyond Andre and Eva to Dusty, but Dusty got a decent look at just who the two Kindred were speaking to. The bruises, the bindings.

"I should kill you," Eva's delivery was so plain and matter-of-fact, there was no subtlety, there was no mystery, there was no playful anything. Just black and white, I should kill you. "To not kill you would risk sending the wrong message to others who might be having similar grand ideas such as your ideas of your role in San Diego." Tara had built San Diego into what it was, in the every-day running of a thing. Yancy had spent decades of time in San Diego in the last century, but it wasn't the same as the person who was there and at ground level.

"I'd say you're lucky, because I'm just going to let you go, but I have a feeling I'm not doing you any favors by just cutting you loose." Not after what Andre had done to her places of power and allies. The very Kindred she crossed the Southwest of what was then not even all the United States, making it to San Diego, surviving, leading, eventually working with Yanci and Eva and the Kid. "Drop her downtown."

Andre closed the door quickly, but his head followed Eva as she walked away. Then his eyes fell on Dusty, and suddenly Dusty stopped taking a drag off his cigarette and stopped loading his one hitter with another hit of weed. That was what Eva saw. What she felt within was even more intense, but even if there was no supernatural sense Dusty's sudden freeze alone would have told Eva what she needed to know.

Black matte heeled feet turned on a dime, bringing her eyes directly in line with his. "It's about to get bad. Rachel called you about Lubbock?"

He was irritated. "We didn't do what we did down in San Diego for nothing."

"Dre, you know you didn't. Things are changing. We're out of time. Focus on the Indian Subcontinent."

"I'll focus on Lubbock."

Eva didn't argue, instead just blinking long lashes as he walked back around the running SUV and got in, both black Cadillacs disappearing into the night. She stared as they passed old Toyotas and Fords with mismatched paint near the exit 'gate' (that was always open) of the apartment complex. It wasn't until she heard Dusty's voice that she processed much of anything. And even then, she had lost anything besides the simple sound of his voice. "What?"

"I said, should I focus on India too?"

Eva smiled. "Take the damn vacation."
I voted. Bitches.
@LegendBegins I just want to express my appreciation for actually listening to this feedback and finding an actionable way to respond to it.

I've brought up this issue more than once before, and each time prior a mod usually responded saying how the site architecture couldn't handle block lists and that it ruined the spirit of the site. Give me a break.


They need Mahz to do it. (Last I knew he wouldn't share credentials to let Legend do it.) Mahz is absentee. Mods probably don't want to have to admit this publicly.

That's why most site function issues seem to fall on deaf ears.
Given the lack of success for this fandom I'm not expecting much interest, but...anyone interested in a Star Trek game?

I have no lack of story ideas, and two rather worked out ideas. One a little dark and twisted (Mirror Universe) the other a political oriented game involving Romulans.

Let me know if you've got any interest. <33
Hey there!

I’m not new to roleplay, just kind of this site. Right now I’m looking for specific fandom based roleplay.

I’m all for 18+, it doesn’t bother me, but of course I’d like my roleplay partner to of course be 18+. I’m 22 for those of you that would care to know.

So, here are the fandoms I’m looking for someone to rp with!

Ducktales
Darkwing Duck
Three Caballeros

I know it’s not an extensive list so I might be out of luck here xD BUT I’m a pretty chill person, and I don’t bite so please don’t be afraid to message me if any of those strike your interest. I’m very open minded and open to many ships or suggestions.


Welcome to the Guild!

Good luck flapping in the night.
Hello hello!

Please call me Lilac, it's great to meet you!

I have been roleplaying for over ten years and usually love to write stories in various fandoms as well as Historical, Sci-fi and Fantasy settings. I'm also a big sucker for romance, drama and the classic Gothic Horror genres.

I'm excited to meet new friends and get to writing soon!
🌸


Welcome to the Guild! Don't hesitate to reach out if you have any questions. Good luck!
Hello there!

A new writer that has joined in the ranks of you all here on Roleplayer Guild. I honestly suck at introductions but just know that I am a friendly person that enjoys writing as a hobby.

I can't wait to meet some people and make some friends! 😀


Welcome to the Guild!
@Vanq

There's no filling the hole this girl left.
@Ezekiel hey! Nice to see a resurrected V:tM RP! It's been...awhile for sure.

If you're still accepting, I'd actually love to have my Ventrue Archon (Alastor) back in the fold, investigating the Sabbat cells within LA.

I read through the IC so far to catch up and love that most of the "old crew" has returned so that's awesome :)

Also, @sini, I would assume our characters may know one another, but to what extent I'm not sure. Might be fun to explore that.


Welcome back! <33

Get on Discord, all the plottin' and a plannin' be done there homeboi.
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