STATUS:
Cleaning day! Made a ton of progress and even found my long lost DS and my missing laundry card that still has a lot of credits on it. Found it in my winter coat of all places go figure.
3 yrs ago
Current
Cleaning day! Made a ton of progress and even found my long lost DS and my missing laundry card that still has a lot of credits on it. Found it in my winter coat of all places go figure.
2
likes
3 yrs ago
Finally got into D&D. Now I feel trapped and I am in love. Should I ask for help or ask where I can get more dice?
2
likes
3 yrs ago
Breaks ups are weird. Not sure how to feel about the other person, or about yourself. It hurts for sure, but it's weird and uncomfortable just how different things seem now.
2
likes
3 yrs ago
I get that dude. Could be one of those days, in the smae boat myself. Hope you're doing better soon though!
1
like
3 yrs ago
It's an ass kick ass world out there. And all we can do about it is keep kicking ass .
Bio
Welcome to my profile! I decided I needed to update this, and I don't have much for updating... Only in a single role-play right now, so far it's going really well!
It seemed the plan had changed. Though Kathryn wasn't against said plan, she worried they were under prepared for it. They knew little and less of the scope of what was going on, and things were kicking off to a degree that by morning, the streets could be littered with corpses. Kosara also had a point on how they couldn't sit back and do nothing. If they waited the night, so many things could happen that by the time things were resolved, there wouldn't be much left to save. She worried for sure, but in the end they didn't have a ton of options. Cicely was missing. Lizbeth was alone and scared. And already attacks had began. Kathryn let go of her embrace of the small girl and looked down at her. Worry in her eyes. She hated the idea of leaving her alone, and if anything happened to her while they were gone she would never forgive herself. But if they sat and hid while the turn burn, she also couldn't forgive herself for that either. But Victoria was right. Baronford was right. And both him and Marita prepared the girl as best as they could. But they had a job to do, and they wouldn't be able to hold her hand for now. "You should take the Blade Lizbeth. You know, when I had turned seven, I got my first sword." She said in an optimistic tone. "My uncle gave it to me, said "A lass like her needs ta know how to fend for herself." And despite my parents protest, I got a cool looking sword. No one expects you to use it, but I know having it made me feel a lot safer when things got scary." Kathryn said in a soft tone with a smile on her face.
Kathryn gave the girl another good squeeze before letting go. "For now, we'll need you to take care of yourself okay? Find a good spot ta hide, and wait for our return. We'll be back as quick as we can, but we gotta go help the town now." When she spoke softly bits of her old accent poked through, something that was harder to hide as she spoke. But listening to Marita, she was right. it was time for war. Kathryn stood up, gave Lizbeth a rub on the top of her head, and smiled on her one last time before affixing her helmet to her head again. "We'll be back soon." She strapped on her battered, but still effective shield. Made sure all her belts and straps were all tightened, and checked her weapons on hand. All where they needed to be.
She wanted to do more for Lizbeth. Barricade the door maybe, or hide her in a secrete compartment. Stash her away under the floorboards. Take her with them and hold out the night, preventing anything that would want to hurt her from getting anywhere near her. She wanted so much to not let this poor girl's world get turned upside down like her own world was all of those years ago. But Lizbeth had to be brave, and the party needed to take action. Aggressive, and precise action. The Municipal building would be a start. Clear out any rodents along the way, and grab Cavendish. Get some answers, and finally some solutions. Something, anything really. She thought of all the old stories she used to have read to her growing up, where the plot device was found and everyone was saved once it was used or destroyed. She doubted this was the same kind of situation. But she hoped. She hoped that they would be the ones to come in and save the day.
Location:TIME Agency --> streets of Arkham Hit Points: 13 Sanity Points: 46 Luck: 75 Mental State: Sane Skill:
Margarete listened closely as Happy spoke. She had some focusing issues, but she figured she got the most important bits. Margarete did her best to follow along when the other members of her team spoke, and though she supposed what they said made sense, she struggled to make much sense of it herself. Professor Dupree had mentioned the school's involvement in such matters, but it all seemed way too complicated for something that didn't need to be. Granted, most of her "Expeditions" were personal and rarely needed more than a boat ticket, some cash, and a location to hash things out. And when Berry, her main contact was in a good mood, those places she didn't need to show up with a gun in her purse. What did catch her attention was Harry's comment against Eleonora flirting with the secretary. That caused Margarete's thought process to pause a moment, and process things. She wondered if the woman was in fact, a Lesbian, or it was a crude jest from Harry. She supposed she would figure out one way or another. As long as it didn't interfere with their work, Margarete didn't mind too much. She didn't know too many, or any on a first name basis, but she gotten enough comments from the opposing sex years ago before she got scarred to hell. They still made comments, but not the same kind. Though she supposed one didn't need to be attracted to a woman to make cruel comments.
Margarete didn't like the response for how they would be received. Margarete was normally at a disadvantage in these sorts of situations. Between her crude social skills, her blunt nature, and just... the other obvious factors. There were always complications without a mutual third party involved. One reason of many why she enjoyed working with Benny yet again. "Big City Cheese?" Sure, Margarete enjoyed the outdoors, had even done some amateur hunting from time to time. But she was about as big city cheese as they came. She was well educated despite her learning difficulties, always well dressed, even when spending time outdoors, held a commanding presence, and she was ill-tempered. She didn't handle being corrected well either, especially in an area of her expertise. "I hope you realize what yer asking there Harry. But I shall do my best. As for the notes and such I wouldn't put it past him to have some personal work space. Either at home or in a place of occupation." She paused, not convinced she used the right wording. Before she let herself get flustered, she took a deep breath and sighed. Not letting it get to her. "When we talk to our lawyer friend, it may be a good idea to try and get keys to such places. See what he was working on before he was lost." She took a pause again, but decided she contributed enough and just took a moment to catch her breath and focus. She let herself get too stressed over her own words, but she had practiced and that would be a quick fix with some controlled breathing.
When she paused, she noticed it again. That Fucking Lamp. It was so close to being perfect in the corner of the desk. And yet, it was off just enough to get to Margarete. It wouldn't need to be moved much, just a little. Just a little bit to help put everything else where it needed to be. She took note of the map to distract herself, but Eleonora had snagged it up pretty fast. It was time to leave, and if she left that lamp the way it was when she left it would be on her mind all day. As they were ushured out of the office, Margarete couldn't wait anymore. She reached out with a couple fingers, and pushed the lamp about a half inch one direction, then less than a quarter of that in another to correct any errors along the way. She did a couple more corrections in rapid successions hoping to fix it fast, each one being less than the last. But within two seconds of the first correction, it was better. As long as it never moved again, everything would be okay. "Have a lovely day Harry." She spoke in her most professional tone as she stood up, smoothed out her blouse, and walked away with all the pride in the world. Her work for now was done.
It was only at that moment she saw Alessa walk in. Another member of their team who would assist however her expertise allowed. "Welcome." Margarete gave the woman as things wrapped up. "It is time to get moving though. SO let's get going." There were some talks of plans, and who shall drive. What they needed. All the good stuff. It seemed much of their group lacked in the form of automobiles. Thankfully, Margarete owned a rather nice car, with a fair amount of seating. She debated a moment not offering it. Like her own home office, it was a space she controlled in its entirety. Once she allowed passengers, she was sure she'd spend countless hours trying to fix it up. But... They had a job to do. Sacrifices needed to be made. She had decided, no one else shall drive her car but herself. That was where she would draw the line.
"I have a car we can take, but we'll need to walk to it. I wouldn't mind picking up a few things, as it seems this may take a while, and I don't think this is a trip we can make every single day for the next few days. I'd like to pack some changes of clothes." She spoke nicely. But another thing that crossed her mind, was the shotgun she kept under the bed. Though this should be like any task she's worked on, something about it seemed off. It could be because it was Time asking her to do it. But remembering how things turned out in France, she wanted to have as many cards in her hand as possible should things turn south. "Cover some gas and coffee and I'll take you there." Margarete said in a surprisingly soothing tone to Eleonora as she began to take her huge strides back to her shop. "After we grab a few things, we can get coffee and get moving. We can either go strait to my place and stop around, or all meet up at my place once we get all of our necessities." Like a 12 gauge shotgun. She supposed they could also meet up at the diner. With a car, Margarete would likely be first to arrive should they choose to split up. She'd have to make sure Berry took care of Sprinkles. The poor kitty would starve without her present for more than a day.
Kathryn looked at the note, even more confused when seeing it. No wonder the poor girl was terrified. She knew so little, and so much was happening so fast. Kathryn wanted desperately to help her out though. "Do you know where she may have gone? We may be able to find her before she returns?" Kathryn said optimistically. Hoping that would help reassure the poor girl everything would be alright. "I don't know," responded Lizbeth, her voice whispering a childlike lamentation. "Aunt Ceecee and I were the first to come down for supper. I left to go wash up like she told me to. When I got back, she was gone." The girl sniffled a bit as tears welled up in her eyes, "The front door was open and this was at her place setting." Lizbeth pointed to the dining table and the door in turn, confusion and sorrow playing heavily on her face. The response wasn't the game changer she hoped it was. Kathryn worried Cecily could have been taken by force, had legitimate concerns and left in a hurry, or could have been one of those turned already.
Kathryn wished she knew how to make Lizbeth feel safe. She was isolated and alone. Scared and unsure of everything going on around her. She wanted so badly to embrace the poor girl in a hug. Let her know she was safe. But there was that little voice in the back of her head telling her she wasn't safe. Physical contact with anyone could always turn into letting her guard down, her not being ready if someone tries to hurt her, make her vulnerable to ill intentions. The screams off in the distance only made that voice in the back of her head worse. She imagined what Lizbeth was going through right now was very comparable to how she felt when her home was destroyed. The sounds of those unfortunate enough to have been found being cut down, every person who was supposed to be there for you now being dead or gone, and your best hope being some strangers who you barely know. Kathryn gave at that point, remembering how scared she was more than a dozen years ago. How scared and alone she felt, she figured Lizbeth was in much the same boat. Silencing the voice in the back of her mind Kathryn took the shield off her arm and began to hold her arms out. Hesitating at first, she reached out again and embraced Lizbeth in a firm and safe hug, though still soft enough to not hurt her or crush her under all the steel. "It's going to be okay darling. Everything is going to be okay." Despite everything working against her, the hug was gentle and protective.
Without breaking the protective hug, Kathryn turned ever so slightly to the rest of the party and mouthed "What do we do?" She wanted to go out and find Cecily, but they were out of time. They could hold up there, but that may leave Lea unprotected, and they knew nothing about this place. It seemed no more secure than anywhere else they had been so far. Maybe less so. And for sure, the rats would have watched them enter. The loft or the public house they may be able to make distance first. But they were stuck between a rock and a hard place, and Kathryn found herself split on how to handle the situation at hand.
The lights helped. But Kathryn was on edge. She could hear the rustling around her as she booked it. She could feel every dent and chip in her armor as she ran. She had scrubbed off the rust and patched it up so many times she had them committed to memory. She was scared, though she still had her wits. As it got darker though, she was worried they were out of time. She took note of Victoria and Marita following close behind. She'd take care to protect Victoria and the rest of the party this time. She had skills that fit a mercenary party well, but an adventuring party her main role was to protect the others for them to handle their tasks. And she was determined to physically crush any poor bastard that wanted to challenge her on this. Cavendish especially. Time after time he gave the weasel a chance to back off. A chance to end things before they escalated. He had mocked her about her heritage, her want to end things peacefully, so he'd get his wish next time they crossed blades. And she would flatten him until his broken body could be dragged to a cell, or he died whatever glorious death he deemed most worthy a man his station. And Kathryn would oblige.
What Marita brought up about the Hayloft was concerning. It was too late to sneak back there quietly. Far too late. "We should consider ways to get back without followers then. We also need to check in on Lea." Kathryn said when she had finally stopped at the door. Now she could talk quietly without having to speak over her own steps. "Should we hold out with her then? The building may be stronger, and it has the space." She wanted to say places with kitchens had better standards for keeping rodents out, but her travels with Ser Lucas brought to her attention that many kitchen outside of castles had standards that varied so widely, that there was little rule of thumb there. She'd just have to hope this kitchen was well kept. "We'll always have our camp later to fall back on." The public house didn't have the advantage of being unknown. But it was a bigger building that seemed pretty well defensible. Their options were rapidly running out. And that concerned Kathryn. They took too long, and things were getting worse. It was getting darker.
Then what concerned Kathryn, was just how quiet it had gotten. Were they gone? The rats? No, they had to be there. They had just backed off again. The bed and breakfast was quiet. It was dark, and looked nearly abandoned. What in the many gods was going on here? Did everyone up and leave? Kathryn set her torch on the ground on the stone so that it wouldn't catch anything, and approached. Her hammer lighting up the ways a bit, and her shield still strapped to her arm. She knocked on the door with force, though a small fraction of the force she used on Mallard's door. She didn't want to spook anyone inside and risk getting locked out. She took a look around while she waited for a response. It was getting darker. Then the screaming began. A scream that sounded like it belonged to someone who was about to experience death. They were out of time. The victim was close. Kathryn reflexively prepared a defensive position when the door opened, and relaxed to see Lizbeth. Where was Cecily?! The owner?! Anyone other adult who was supposed to be here?! "Lizbeth? Are you here alone?" Kathryn went to her knees and took off her helmet to listen to this poor girl. Cecily was gone. And left a note that was now the only clue they had to helping this poor girl.
More screaming. Followed by another. They were out of time. They had to get moving. But Kathryn couldn't push herself to rush this girl. She was scared, and alone. "Lizbeth, things are going to be okay. We came to help, and that's what we intend to do. But we need your help okay sweetie?" Kathryn got back onto her feet, her helmet wedged between her shield arm and her torso. Kathryn attempted to step in slowly, trying to not frighten the poor girl anymore. Stepping inside, she saw the note, and the source of the only light in the building. The place seemed truly empty and abandoned shy of this small child. Her wide eyes watched as Kathryn stepped in. Kathryn still taking the extra moment to not bump her head into the doorway as she stepped. Thankfully, that wasn't an issue.
Kathryn knelt down, trying to suppress her own fears and concerns for the situation. Kathryn would keep her safe, that she was determined. Even more so than neutralizing Cavendish. "We're going to keep you save Lizbeth. And we're going to help however we can. May we please see the note? It'll be a great help." Kathryn held out her gloved hand, a warm smile on her face, despite the fear and dread in her system telling her to wrap her arms around this girl as run as fast as her legs could take her. She figured she may end up having to do that anyways. They were out of time.
Margarete turned to face Henrietta as she entered the office. "Thanks darling, always keeping an eye out for me. It's appreciated." She spoke in a surprisingly soft tone for a woman her size. Some of it was Henrietta was a great secretary, some of it was as well she didn't feel like she needed to make her presence known around her. That always relaxed the big woman.
Margarete listened intently as the others spoke. She followed along as best as she could, but retaining information has never been a strong skill of hers. She was a commanding presence, a loud voice, muscle when it called for it, and an expert in her field. She also graduated second last in her class. But she did graduate. But the job itself seemed pretty strait forward. Follow what leads were left of their Mr. Cornthwaite, figure out if he was missing or just off doing his own thing, and she wondered if worst case, if it had anything to do with why the lot of them were recruited. "Seems like the kind of Gent who'd up and go off on his own just because he could. But a job's a job." She said, her tone returning to it's usual stern and professional foundation. Though not loud. She did take a moment to read over the papers presented. She again had trouble. Though she wasn't reading allowed this time, her lips were moving along as she skimmed the important bits. And she read at a slow pace compared to most adults. Though she still did her best to hide this fact, there were giveaways that she couldn't avoid without really trying. When she finished up with the papers she passed them along to whoever needed to see them. When she did so, her eyes locked with a small lamp on the corner of the desk. Noting nothing spectacular about it, but it seemed off to her. Was this her own home she would fix it no problem. But not only was it not her own home, she was in a meeting. The way it sat in the corner though, closer to one side than the other. It bugged her to an extreme degree. She'd leave it for now, but she felt almost compelled to fix it.
As Father C came in, Margarete listened as he brought up the library, pulling up local records and seeing what they could find that maybe could draw their attention. "The Library's a good idea. I'd also like to take a look at any notes he had left from his last expedition. If this is him just going off on an adventure there may be clues there as to where he may have gone. I wouldn't mind talking tot he sheriff either. Even if he cut the investigation short, we may still be able to get some sort of lead from him." Or worst case, know if he was someone to work with or avoid. There were a few folks on either end of the bar when it came to law enforcement. It was good to know where you stood with the law.
Professor Dupree seemed confident that it couldn't be an expedition, as rumors would have spread. Especially in his place of work. "That is fair enough, I don't want to rule it out yet though." His sudden exclamation made Margarete jump in her seat a bit, surprised at the sudden noise. But as he spoke, his logic was sound. How could one, even as rich as him set up such a large expedition? "What if he went just by himself? Like some sort of hunting or hiking trip. A way to avoid prying eyes maybe? Or some poorly planned trip? Hell, maybe something so rushed he didn't have time to plan anything of note." Though if he was so preoccupied before he went missing, there must have been some planning? "I suppose that's what we're here to figure out huh? Most my ideas be just theories though. I'm sure we'll figure out more once we arrive in Gamwell. Harry, is it safe to assume our arrival is welcome and not..." She paused a moment, maybe a moment too long thinking of the word to use. She didn't want to say unwelcome, she worried it would make her sound like a child. "Or will others outside of the attorney see us as uninvited visitors?" She felt like a fool, but her face was expressionless as she patched up her broken sentence.
Eleonore had a fair point. Why TIME specifically? She figured there was a couple reasons. But Margarete didn't answer them out loud. She had made enough of a fool of herself, and she didn't want to be wrong in front of everyone. "I got a car, but anyone who rides in it follows by my rules for it." She didn't get a chance to use it often, she walked most places in town, and rarely left town except for big events. Her car though was one of her most prized possessions, and she had full intentions of taking car of it. She was glad to be in a team of people who seemed rather decent at piecing together clues. Or at least good enough to fool her. All the points Eleonore made had sound logic and reasoning to them. "I agree, we can talk and drive. We'll have the time." She looked back at that lamp though. Something had to be done about it. But not yet, not yet.
Rats. So many fucking rats. Had she blinked she may have missed it. But she saw their eyes, how they ran. She saw how they stalked the party, and assumed that they would have to fight through them to get out of this. She shivered thinking about how many there were. She saw dozens before they ran off once visible to the torch light. Were they surrounded that densely? Were there hundreds? Fucking hell... They were running out of time. And running out fast. "We need to keep moving." Mallard thankfully opened the door quickly. Weapons in hand, Kathryn distributed them on her person like she would normally. Seeing how the axe had fared, she was impressed with how it had been handled. "Mallard, you surely know how to treat a woman. Tell yer wife she's a rather lucky gal." Kathryn said with a smile. She'd get herself a new shaft for the axe when this was all over.
They were kicked out fast once they all got their gear. Kathryn understood. They were on a short time table and likely would not get back before the sun set. It would be close. It would be so fucking close. But they were almost done. They were so close. "Thank you Mallard. Take care of yourself tonight. And we'll be seeing more of you soon don't ya worry." Kathryn said with a smile as she fashioned her helmet on. Kathryn tried to listen in on what Kosara was saying about the lights. But a lot of it didn't register as Kathryn got her kit as sorted out as she could. She did get some of what Kosara said about torches. Lighting up another for herself, she lit one for Kosara as well. "Here ya go, now let's get things wrapped up." She offered the torch to Kosara, though if she didn't take it she would put it out and save it for later. She wasn't struggling for them, but she didn't want to waste them either.
Kathryn began to book it. Her long legs taking heavy strides as her armor clanked and banged. She needed to get there in time. She needed to keep as many people safe as she could. Kathryn was glad to hear the rats didn't seem like they wanted to attack, it made her feel like she could get away with this a lot easier. She booked it as fast as her legs could carry her to the bed and breakfast. She was determined to protect the L'Rose's before the sun set. She was determined to keep them safe.
Kathryn was grateful Kosara could set up a bunch of lights using her magic, though Kathryn would decline having one personally. Instead opting for a torch to help keep things lit. Between that and everyone else's lights and ability to see in the dark, she hoped that nothing could sneak up on them. It seemed most agreed more or less with Kathryn's theory that everyone was taking shelter for the night. She really hoped that was the case. Otherwise things may already be too late for too many people. Between the subtle noises, and all the actions taken about in the dark. It was clear something was off. Kathryn gave another pound against Mallard's door. "Mallard we need to hurry." She said with a bit more of a commanding tone. One she normally wouldn't try to pull off. But they still had people to check up on tonight. Apart of her worried maybe they should have split up. Maybe she herself could book it to the L'Roses? A fast sprint to there and back? Maybe that's what they should have done, and have whoever wrapped up first meet the other at the next location. But it was far too late for that now.
The sounds continued. More and more. Kathryn was preparing to drop the torch and draw the hammer, ready to face whatever threat came from out of the fog. Taking a brief look around, she decided she couldn't stand at the door any longer. Be it curiosity, or a need to keep the others behind her if things went south, she stepped to the edge of the group attempting to keep everyone between her and the door. The dim glow from the hammer could be seen, though she wasn't sure how useful it would be against the fog. For now, the torch and the magical lights would do. "Do you think whoever watching is the same as who was watching you before?" She asked Victoria quietly, keeping her eyes focused on the fog. Looking in, she decided she wanted a better look, but dared not to book it into the unknown. If they were being followed she was determined to know for sure.
With a surprisingly elegant underhand toss the torch flew some feet down the road the party had originally came down. She hoped to keep the motion fast enough so if anything or anyone was on the road behind them they couldn't get out of the light too fast, but not so fast to burn out the torch. But really, she didn't need to see them. She just needed to see something move. If she could see it, that would be enough to know. Then she could face it.
Location: O'Bryon's old world Heirlooms --> TIME Agency Hit Points: 13 Sanity Points: 46 Luck: 75 Mental State: Sane Skill: Education Roll 29
Alas, the morning had come. Margarete had wished she could spend a few more minutes- No... a few more hours in bed. But she had a shop to run, and bussiness to attend too. Standing up out of bed her feet hit the floor with a heavy thud as the disheveled woman stood up. On her night stand her grandfather's .45 waited, loaded for in case some poor bastard tried to get her while she slept. Or anything else that may try it. Not that she was any good with it. Outside of firing it in the woods a few times some years ago the only time she grabbed it nowadays was when she went to bad with an ill feeling, or to put it away. Sometimes she'd go out and take it with her if she was worried trouble might find her. But that was a rare occasion. The damn thing barely fit in her handbag anyways. Locked away in the drawer though, it sat still loaded just in case. Just in case. The thought that kept crossing her mind since she left France. Making her way to the window she pulled the blinds that faced the sunrise open. The bright morning beams felt just wonderful against her scarred and ruined face. It helped her feel at peace, the rise of a new day.
Morning routines were simple enough. Shower, find the nicest clothes she could find. Curse the clothes that DARE to not fit her correctly anymore! Neatly reorganized everything in her bathroom until everything was back in place. Organized by size, purpose, then replaced those things that would need more attention later. Sealing them inside a used up coffee tin to be deep cleaned later. The clothes she wore were her favorite beige pencil skirt, a nice blouse to go with it, and a nice suit jacket she would put on after breakfast. Breakfast was always a chore. She used to love to read the newspaper when she ate her breakfast, but now she had to forgo that until she was done and down to only her coffee to make time to prep and organizing. Eggs cracked and poured into circle shaped metal cutters, bacon strips cooked in neatly parallel lines, and some hash to act as a side made into another perfect circle like the eggs. But the eggs always turned out into different shapes, the yokes were never centered, the bacon strips always shrank to different lengths and angles. The whole thing was a nightmare for Margarete who only wanted a nice breakfast. She didn't care about these things nearly as much when she was in the woods. But home, or at work, when she was faced with a structured day to day life? Everything needed to be as perfect as could be. At least the hash stayed a circle. There was already a good start. The smell of fresh coffee only helped with that. The way the table was set one may guess she was preparing for a nice date, not that there was a Mr. O'Bryon in her life. Multiple forks set about in neat fashion, two spoons, a water cup on one side, and coffee on the other. With the table set, food made, Margarete was finally able to sit and enjoy her breakfast. Allowed to de-stress herself and get her morning rolling before she had any clients to deal with.
Though a single strand of hair that didn't seem to know it's place kept trying to mess up her meal, Sprinkles had saved the day before she took her anger out on a table she really didn't want to replace. The chubby orange cat jumped onto her lap and began purring up a storm as if his favorite human couldn't be beat by anyone. "Don't think you can butter me up so easily. I know why you're really here." The cat seemed to look up at her with the biggest smiling, purring like a motorboat as he continued to rub up against her. "It's not going to work. I have learned the secrete to your ways. I shall persist!" She said in a conquering tone. The chubby cat simply gave her a happy "Meow". Margarete soon admitted defeat. "Sigh... fine... let me finish the has first." Sprinkles perked up! He knew his mother too well. Margarete set the plate down on the floor with some eggs and most of a strip of bacon still left. Sprinkles was pleased his servant had fed him and immediately began ignoring his human once he had gotten what he wanted. "Ya wee bastard! Where's your end of the bargain!" Sprinkles ignored her in favor of the bacon.
Grabbing the mail that had been dropped off, she skipped over the newspaper wasting a fair amount of time spoiling her cat, and demanding his affection. Some were bills, some were letters asking about items she sold months ago, some were offers for more collectables. Overall, the usual stuff. What did catch her though... The unstamped letter was pretty easy to tell who it came from. But she still had to spend some time decrypting it. "Important message... New England millionaire... Respa... respatility..." She mumbled as she read the letter. Given another pot of coffee she could make out words easier. But she had never been the sharpest tool in the shed. "Responsibility! Great... uhm..." She held a reading level of a student who had never finished school. Though she loved to read, she was slow, and the early morning still ahead of her she was more off than usual. "...presence required ASAP..." She paused, reading that over. So it was TIME. She was hoping she'd be less groggy by the time she got there. Last thing she needed to do was make a fool of herself, or have to beat down some poor bastard that decided to call her out for it.
She put on her suit jacket, a felt fedora for the weather, and grabbed her handbag from her room. She paused, looking back at the side table. She always had her knuckles within her bag should she need it. But if TIME was reaching out to her, she had an idea of the kind of trouble she expected. Taking her keys, she took the old army revolver out of the drawer and slid it into her bag. Still loaded from the night before. Locking it back up she left to get to work. "Stay out of trouble sprinkles, mum will be back soon enough. Make sure to not sleep all day!" She called out knowing the cat would do just that. But it made her feel better to at least say something. Sprinkles, was already asleep on top of a box by the radiator. She left a sign on her shop saying simple "Went out on important errands, shall return later." Attached to it, were a few of her business cards.
Margarete chose to walk. The fresh air helped her keep a level head when confronted with problems and stressers. Plus, it was easy for her to make it past most crowds. She stood over most woman, and many men. She was intimidating by size alone. The scars on her face only seemed to help that fact as no one dared bump into the woman. She stepped through the doorway to be greeted by the lovely secretary. "Mornin' Miss Babson. Taking care of yourself?" She asked intrigued, but alas she was in a hurry. Inside she saw two other agents, and Harry Peacock. She made sure to give each a courteous acknowledgement of a nod, and eye contact. Though kept her hat on. She was still self conscious about the burns sometimes. And for whatever reason she felt the hat helped draw attention away from them.
She continued her heavy steps, her lifted shoes nearly stomping with her weight on the floor as she walked into the office. Though she arrived a little late, she arrived soon enough to get the gist of what was going on. She had to ponder the question for a moment. Then it hit her! "Arthur Cornthwaite is a wealthy lad who went on a fair amount of expeditions, made money off them, and had an obsession with tribes from about tha' world. Saw him once at an event, but can't say I know much more on The man. I think he's local? At least to the Northeast." She shrugged. But she guessed that is why they were there. To know about this man, and figure out where he had gone. Though, the smaller girl had a point. Why did the attorney think that they needed to be involved instead of the police? She was sure there was a reason, but off the top of her head, she couldn't think of one.
Name: Margarete Mclittle O'Bryon Aliases: Ms. Little, Sergent, Maggie, Lady O'Bryon Age: 29 years Gender: Female Birthplace: United States. New York, New York. Residence: Arkham Occupation: Antique Dealer, Great War Package
Appearance and Physical attributes
⊰Strength⊱ 85
⊰Constitution⊱ 55
⊰Size⊱ 75
⊰Dexterity⊱ 60
⊰Appearance⊱ 35
⊰Hit Points⊱ 13
Physical description Height: 6'2" Weight: 226 Build: Brawny Eyes: Blue Hair: Auburn, long and wavy/curly Skin Tone: Caucasian Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Full Body Burns, the most notable scaring the left side of her face Personal Style: Margarete tends to lean on the professional side of apparel. Preferring button down jackets ranging from sleeveless suit jackets, to outdoors jackets. Generally with a semi comfortable blouse underneath. She will regularly switch between skirts of slacks depending on what the situation calls for, or whatever she would feel most comfortable with at the time.
Sexuality: Bisexual Relationship Status: Single Personality: Margarete is a professional woman, who wants to do nothing more then to be the most professional person in the room. No detail is too perfect, no problem is too small, and she has the solutions to all of it. She is correct, until proven wrong. Though she had learned through a slow and painful process to trust the ideas of others around her, old habits die hard. She is convinced that her solutions are always the best unless someone else can present a reason for why it's not, or a reason why their idea is better. Margarete as well, has little patience for people who attempt to wrong her or those under her protection. Should anyone attempt to cause her or her friends any physical or verbal harm, she has full intentions to unleash it ten fold in return. No solution is over the top if it gets the job done after all? She is as well, slow to let go of a grudge. Once someone has wronged her or another she is close too, she finds herself just waiting for that poor fool to slip up again, and give her an excuse to put them back in line.
On her less hostile side, Margarete can be extremely caring and protective of those around her. If someone is hurt, she will tend their needs, if someone needs somewhere to stay safe, her doors are always open. If someone just needs a friend to talk about their problems, she will sit and listen. She is nothing if not caring for those around her and in need. She'll be the shield for a kingdom, a protector of those who can't protect themselves, and a friend to those who will do the same for her.
Margarete knows she isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but she's passionate about her work. And will call out anyone who doubts her abilities in her fields. And given the opportunity to talk about it, she would go on for hours about artifacts and history. In many ways, she still acts like she did during The Great War. Standing tall, stoic, and assertive. Every now and again letting that cover drop to be more relaxed and chill. Enjoying every little positive thing about life.
Habits: Visibly tensing up when stressed, snacking, being louder than needed. Hobbies: Hunting, hiking, general outdoors activities, writing Greatest fear:
Open, uncontrolled flames
Likes: 6 minimal
History
One night stands
The Great Outdoors
Chewing Gum
Novels, Romance, Fantasy, Old western
Sparing
Old gold, and jewelry.
Singing and Dancing
Dislikes: 6 minimal
Snakes
Heavy industrialization
Sexism
Extreme heat
Rats
Being mocked or discredited
Cards On The Table
Skills
Call of Cthulhu is notorious for its long list of skills, but it will become managable for you in no time! Here is the offical list of skills used in Call of Cthulhu 7th Edition with the base percentage chance of success listed. Just give me a call during character creation and in-case you need some help. I'm more than happy to help!
Accounting - 20%
Anthropology - 01%
Appraise - 50%
Archaeology - 01%
Art/Craft - 05% -Insert craft if specified by your occupation.
Charm - 15%
Climb - 30%
Credit rating - 50% -Based on your occupation. Occupation skill point must be used to raise your credit rating.
Cthulhu Mythos - 00% -Cannot be raised by normal means, only by being exposed to the Mythos. Increased skills in CM reduced your maximum sanity.
Disguise - 05%
Dodge - 30% -Can be added onto with skill points during character creation.
Drive auto - 20%
Electrial Repair - 10%
Fast Talk - 05%
Fighting (Brawl) - 55% -Other means of fighting may be added here during character creation.
Firearms (Handgun) - 20%
Firearms (Rifle/Shotgun) - 50% -Other forms of firearms may be added here during character creation.
First Aid - 30%
History - 50%
Indimidate - 50%
Jump - 20%
Language (Other) - 01% -May be added during character creation, either from your occupation or personal skill.
Language (Own) - 60
Law - 05%
Library Use - 45%
Listen - 20 %
Locksmith - 01%
Mechanical Repair - 10%
Medicine - 01%
Natural World - 10%
Navigate - 45%
Occult - 05%
Operate Heavy Machinery - 01%
Persuade - 10%
Pilot - 01% -What type of pilot you are is deteremined by your occupation or personal skills.
Psychology - 10%
Psychoanalysis - 01%
Ride - 05%
Science - 01% -What field of science you are skilled in, is determined by your occupation or personal skills.
Sleight of hand - 10%
Spot Hidden - 25%
Stealth - 20%
Survival - 10% -What climate and/or terrain you are skilled in surviving, is determined by your occupation or personal skills.
Swim - 20%
Track - 10%
Additionl slots of not listed skills
Weapons and Combat
Damage Bonus: 1d4 Build: +1 Dodge: S0
Weapons:
Unarmed: 55 - hard 22, Extreme 11 - Damage (1d3 + 1d4)- Range (N/A) - Attacks (1) - Ammo (N/A) - Malfunction (N/A)
Winchester 1897: 50 - 25, 10 - 1d10+7 or 1D6/2D6/4D6 at (10/20/50 yards) - Range 50 yards - Attacks 2 - 12 gauge - 100
Brass Knucles: 55 - hard 22, Extreme 11 - Damage (1d3 + 1 + 1d4)- Range (N/A) - Attacks (1) - Ammo (N/A) - Malfunction (N/A)
Baseball Bat: 55 - hard 22, Extreme 11 - Damage (1d8 + 1d4)- Range (N/A) - Attacks (1) - Ammo (N/A) - Malfunction (N/A)
What Is On Your Person: This includes your clothing, jewelry, your wallet, your id, your keys; cash(denote which country), a picture (a rare thing), papers and tobacco, pipe, matches, weapons you may carry, shoes, purse, bag, canteen, walking stick, and so forth. If it is not listed you are not carrying it. Again, keep it grounded in the real world for the 1920's. Limited to spots provided.
Clothing - Button down suit jacket, pencil skirt, a blouse underneath, Lifted dress shoes
Purse/Wallet - Loose coins, ID, notebook filled with sketches from work and random thoughts, assortment of pens and pencils, $200, business cards with contact information
Brass Knuckles
Chewing Gum
.45 Cavalry Revolver
Magnifying glass, dusting brush
A pair of necklaces, One silver, one pearl
An assortment of rings ranging from gold, to a small ruby ring
Light work gloves
Wick Lighter
Residence: This is your stash basically - all your items that are not on you at all times. General things need not be listed like a bed, blanket and so forth. Somethings are just a given. But things like Weapons stash, books, files on people, books, special mementos, and so forth are something that need to be listed out and very detailed. Make sure to know that this will be updated through out the RP - Bullets get used, weapons get lost, ropes break. Again, keep this grounded in reality. You won't have an arsenal! Bare bones to start folks and keep it with your profession and what your income would have been. Not everyone is going to have money... Limited to spots provided.
M1897 shotgun, stored under the bed
Baseball bat
Outdoor and clothes
Lantern
Fine wines and bourbon
History books and encyclopedias
Tools for inspecting artifacts
Box of 12 gauge shells (100)
Box of .45 Automatic. (100)
Car, Nash Touring
Sprinkles the Cat
History
What brought you to the detective agency, and why are you still there:One During the great war, Margarete found herself stations in a field hospital hastily established in an old manor house in France. While there, the structure was destroyed in a series of explosions. Caused by planes or artillery, she would never know for sure. Though she survived relatively unscathed, she watched as horrors crawled out from what used to be the basement and began to attack the survivors. One of them having caused the burns she now wears today. Now, she wants to know what had happened, what those creatures were, and how they got there.
Life before current day: Margarete grew up in a wealthy family in New York city. Her father owned a factory, and her mother was an assistant to a dock owner. Margarete wanted for little in material value. She was also the youngest of five kids having four older brothers who while she grew up made sure to remind her she was the runt of the litter. This caused a lot of situations where if she wanted her voice heard, she would have to physically make her brothers listen. Only being dialed back by her mother when she caught them fighting. By the time she outgrew half her brothers, most of the fighting had calmed down between the siblings. Though she still found herself having to balance forcing members of her family to listen to her, and being as lady like as possible to avoid embarrassing her parents. Something she could pull off on a regular basis if everything her parents said was true. Though she did love her family, and she knew they loved her back. But it became apparent quick that the life she wanted to live, was not the life she wanted to live. That life she would find when her family visited upstate New York. The Adirondacks were so green! So clean! So fresh, and the only rules and restrictions seemed to be respecting each other and the world around them. It seemed like the perfect life for her! She would visit her family home out here whenever possible. It was one of the few times she didn't feel restrained by her parents ideas of her!
Growing up though, it became rather apparent she wasn't the smartest cookie. Likely a less than average to low IQ combined with some likely form of ADD. Though through well funded education, heavy persistence from her parents and tutors, she would pick up on some topics, though most would begin falling off fast. She wasn't dumb, nor stupid. But when compared to her brothers with the same resources she fell behind often, and greatly. Topics such as reading and writing fared better then others. She did surprisingly well in history as well. But overall, when it came to schooling, she struggled behind other kids her age. Her parents held much hope for her to find a nice husband to take care of her though!
When The United States entered the Great War, her father had joined as an officer like his father, and his father's father before him. When all of her brothers ended up enlisting, she attempted to join herself meeting strong resistance from both of her parents in doing so. This went on for a few weeks before Margarete joined anyways despite her parents refusal to allow it. During the war she almost never saw action. Though from time to time she could hear the blasts from artillery in the distance. When her unit of clerks found itself attached to a impromptu field hospital, the building was destroyed in a rather large explosion injuring nearly everyone inside. To the surprise of those who could still walk there were few deaths among the debris. What the explosion had uncovered though was a basement that hadn't been discovered when the building was first occupied. Outside of it creatures that Margarete could never imagine had emerged, picking off those too wounded to fight back, and those who ran in fear. One of those creatures had found it's way to Margarete in a matter of moments, and in her attempts to escape it she found herself trapped within one of the many burning fires of the field hospital while the creature stalked outside looking for a way in. When she woke in a new hospital, she was informed that she would be returning home, and that few survived the encounter at her station. When she attempted to explain what had happened, she was dismissed being told she had Shell Shock and her memory of the events were skewed and unreliable. She would return home with not a soul believing her words.
She returned from the war before any of her brothers, and long before the war ended. For her deeds and hard work, she left with a comfortable rank, though her career was over for good. When her mother saw her precious daughter brought home burned and wheelchair bound Margarete had trouble hearing how much her mother missed her over the scolding. How she shouldn't have run off, how she had ruined her life and any chance to have a good husband, how she had needlessly endangered herself and for what?! Every time her mother looked at her from that point, she could see the look in her eyes of disappointment. The scolding and arguments got worse as the war dragged on. With each letter that came in, explaining another brother wouldn't be returning home, the dread was placed on Margarete. With plenty of "This could have been you" "Look what happened to your brothers, what were you thinking" "War is no place for a lady". The scolding stopped when the letter for her father came in. Everything stopped after that. Her mother shut herself in and barely acknowledged anyone anymore. Margarete wasn't much better. In her state, she felt hideous, and wanted nothing to do with anyone who could judge her for her actions. The consequences she wore on her face and would for the rest of her life.
Terry would be the only brother to return home. By that time Margarete could walk without assistance anymore, and held her brother close when he stepped into the door. Her mother finally broke out of her shell again, though paid Margarete little attention as she made sure her son was safe. When he went to take over her father's factory Margarete decided the best course of action for herself, was to get as far away from home as possible. In this case, being the family home out in the Adirondacks. She would spend several years there after the war reading her books, working as a manager in an antique shop, and hiking and hunting to her hearts contempt. Life was as good as it could be for a while, until her brother one day returned to the family cabin. He had told her they needed to sell the cabin. Between their mother not making an income anymore outside of their father's pension, and the factory doing poorly, the family was cutting costs and selling whatever assets they could. Though he explained it as best as he could, and assured that this was the last thing he wanted to do, Margarete would need to find somewhere else to live. With the best option being back home, she was ready to backpack it across the country and live in the woods. Upon hearing this, Terry had offered her some of the sales of the cabin, to help her get started again in a new home. She figured this was the best compromise she could get, so she took it.
Moving to Arkham wasn't her first choice. Or her second. But it was a nice town, and it was affordable enough, and there was a nice little shop with an apartment built into the building for sale. Packing up the possessions she had left to her name, she moved and opened up her new shop. Selling and collecting antiques, learning their history, and getting to tell it to others. She was financially comfortable by any definition, but she was nowhere near as well off as she was growing up. But she still got to go on her long hikes, hunting trips, and got to enjoy her passion in regional and ancient history. Overall, she would call it a win.
Your belief in/encounters with the supernatural: Some creatures that couldn't be explained attacked her during the war. She had no idea what it was, but she has trouble believing it's from this world. Ideology/Belief: If Margarete had her way, everyone would live as farmers, hunters, and historians. The tribal and clan life. But since that isn't feasible, she is a strong voice in the ideas of being independent from other people, government, and and anyone else who would meddle with her life. The only involvement should to assist others who are not able to help themselves. If asked, she'll say she's catholic, though practices little, if at all. Significant people: Her brother Terry is the closest person she has in life. One of the few people who supported her for living a more independent life (After some childhood fights), and has assisted her financially whenever he could. Not that she would openly ask. Many days, she wished she could return the favors.
Her mother could be be included, though they don't speak often. Just the occasional letter. Margarete can't stand the disappointed look on her mother's face whenever she looks at her.
Benny, her local contact for antiques, collectables, and artifacts Meaningful location: The Adirondack mountains. Treasured possessions: History of the old United States, her first major history book
Extras
Character Quote: "This isn't worth fightin' over. But if you're going to make a fight out of it, know it's going to hurt you a lot more than it'll hurt me." Theme Song:Diamond Ring Anything Else:
Welcome to my profile! I decided I needed to update this, and I don't have much for updating... Only in a single role-play right now, so far it's going really well!
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Welcome to my profile! I decided I needed to update this, and I don't have much for updating... Only in a single role-play right now, so far it's going really well! </div>
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