Sigil

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

Ok, I'm pushing the line with the posting minimum. Will post tomorrow, accounting for the GM time skip to morning. Until then, please find light entertainment with my gif of a luchador robbing a convenience store with a gaggle of ostriches, below.

Thank you and goodnight.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

A little out of sorts today, will be posting for all of my characters tomorrow.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: The Regal Building, Apartment 1D (His)

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Caesar had quite enough of today. It was exhausting. He had looked at the footage many, many times, focusing on different parts, different people. He caught bits and pieces of Alicia's and Lorna's efforts in painfully ejecting the less savory members of the Fourth Estate from the area of the crime scene. (Those he went back to, not because of any potential evidence, but because it was damned good entertainment.) He observed the footage over and over and over. Nothing.

His short breaks to take a drink or get in some exercise were still spent thinking about the footage. It was taxing his brain, the sheer repetition of it. Caesar knew full well that his capacity to apply reason to it had reached its limits. Every detail was etched into his brain, thanks to the constant, self inflicted barrage of the images. Different eyes on this would be a blessing. Maybe that forensic tech would have some glimmer or recognition. Maybe his girls, whenever they got around to it, would have their own observations. But for right now, at this moment, he had to get his brain far away from the events of last night. Give his subconscious time to process.

Leftovers and TV. No thinking necessary. Maybe he could TiVo himself up some back episodes of that zombie series. The old man was partial to the grizzled redneck with the crossbow. Seemed like his kind of people, with the exception of the drugged-out, racist family.

So he relaxed on his enormous, comfy couch with some manner of chopped meat, fruit salad (with those little marshmallows and shaved coconut), and a couple of Engelatos. Caesar picked up the remote and pressed the power button, hoping to get to his show quickly and turn off his brain for an hour. Unfortunately, what he saw first was the local news.

It didn't matter what news program; if it was local, it was there, front and center. The story was slung across the networks like liquid shit from a pressurized air cannon. Another inhabitant of this tragic place was dead. One Caesar had met before. He'd seen this guy around, too - Lyle Somethingorother. Marlestone, the reporter said. Yeah, that was it. Lived in M'hija's building, too. Another suicide? Another coincidence? Like hell. The old man wasn't buying it. Too many obscure, seemingly unrelated events happen that are so eerily similar within close proximity to one another, and it fails to be coincidence.

He kept it on the news. Caesar slowly ate his meal, not particularly enjoying a bite of it. His footage from last night was still on his brain, fresh and clear, but now he was letting his subconscious process it, adding in this new information. To be on the safe side, he retrieved his pistol and got his working gear together. He wanted to make himself available at a moment's notice if need be. Next, he sent a quick text message to Alicia and Lorna, just in case they didn't get the memo.

LYLE MARLESTONE DEAD. DROWNING/SUICIDE? SOMETHING HAPPENING. CONSIDER AREA HOSTILE.

Caesar considered the possibility that, were these all random murders, what good would it possibly accomplish? Who would have anything to gain from a campaign of senseless killing in an area like this? Perhaps it was a real estate grab. This was definitely lowering the land value. With the intent of finding out if this location's history, or any publicly listed plans for the future were in play, Caesar returned to his computer.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

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Keystone

Location: Road North of Salarn, Day Two

Interacting With: The Re-Revised Group

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The itinerant brawler known as Keystone brushed back as much silt and mud from their prospective resting areas as he could manually. It was mostly a token gesture, and mostly pointless in hindsight. But it was doing something for the purposes of making their crispy temporary habitat slightly more homely. He grabbed a few edibles from his pack, suited to the lack of firemaking conditions. Luckily, Keystone was an adept Foodsmith and stocked accordingly.

He opened various moderately sized packages, revealing what he intended for his supper that evening. Keystone presented yet more in the way of hardtack, but supplemented it with chubs of hard sausage with a mottled white casing and slices of desiccated pears. It was, by absolutely no means, the giant, hot meal for which he had hoped. But it was more than he had gotten lately. A low fire still burned in the hearth, off to one side. If was enough to provide a little light and heat, but Keystone didn't want to risk cooking on it. Being warm and having a meal seemed the priority over only having a warm meal.

Keystone stood, looking around at those of his group taking shelter in that dirty, charred building. What an interesting group of outcasts and ne'er-do-wells he'd fallen in with. Glancing outside, he wondered what the rest of these outcasts were doing standing about in the hard, pouring rain. He walked just outside the building to recover his pots, washed almost clean by the torrential rain. The slightest bit of motion fixed the rest of it. He reset them, hoping to collect rainwater enough to fully refill his stores of potable.

Once done, the broad man looked to the rest of his party that had not yet chosen to enter the relative comfort of the building. "Oi! Whenever you lot're done kissin', I got some eats set up inside! ...ain't got the sense to come in out o' the bloody rain..."

Just for the hell of it, Keystone set two medium sized sugar yams neatly into a cooler section of the hearth. Just a little something for himself. He figured he deserved it.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

@Lucius Cypher @POOHEAD189
You two are both on Day 5 since posting last. Need something in tonight.

@rivaan
You're on Day 4. Need something soon.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: The Regal Building, Apartment 1D (His)

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Far from the old, miserly type that didn't respond well to changes in technology, Caesar had a firm grasp on modern tech. Particularly as it pertained to his chosen occupation, he was quite savvy. That being said, the old man attacked his footage from the previous night with the utmost of concentration and technical literacy. The scrutiny was intense. Hell, the old man limited himself to only four drinks throughout the workday, so solid was his desire for a clear, contemplative metric of his video.

Caesar paced. He sharpened his knives. Twirled his machetes. Got in a workout or two. He did many things that were not directly related to watching the video. Yet, always in his mind were the images. Maybe there was a detail he missed. Of course, he lacked perspective. In order to find a connection, he first had to have strong general knowledge about the people around the area, with which to compare to his experiences securing the crime scene and holding the line. Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly the social butterfly. He would need to show his findings to someone else.

Immediately, his thoughts drifted toward his daughter. She was younger, more outgoing. As was Lorna. And they both had been in town for a half year longer then himself. But... there was still lingering animosity due to his attempt at Taco based humor. Despite this, Caesar had given an order for them to check the video upload to the company server, and he was certain that it would be carried out. He did mention that it was not an extreme rush. Best to give them space for now.

On the other hand, he still needed perspective. Now, who else could he turn to that might have that necessary perspective, coupled with a willingness to actually see something solid done? Maybe the friendly lab tech from the previous night. He had passed a business card off to her, but that was no guarantee that he would hear back. He didn't even catch the girl's name. Whelp, this wasn't anything that a good, old fashioned bit of cyber stalking couldn't fix.

Caesar returned to his laptop and minimized his earlier work. He opened a secure browser and began to dig. It was easy enough to locate the Justice Medical Examiner's website. Government employees were, by law, openly listed. Unfortunately, their pictures were not. So, he narrowed down the list to female names, and plugged them into a broad search, one at a time. The search was narrowed to account for her physical characteristics and apparent age, education, location, etc. Over a short time, a picture emerged from the mass of others. That was her.

Cecily Ashworth.

He quickly thumbed in the number to the Justice Medical Examiner's Office. It rang a few times before an automated voice asked him to press 1 para Español. He kept to English. Eventually, he was transferred three different times until he got a message stating that he had reached Forensic Technician Cecily Ashworth's voicemail. Ok, he could work with this.

"Miss Ashworth, this is Caesar. Por favor come and meet with me when you receive this. Need your help with something. You know where I'll be."

The Legend of Zelda: Fragments of Hope

I'm fairly positive that, with a reboot and interested player base, this RP can come out of stasis.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Black James!

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Location: Newnan Main Road, Gates

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The black and pewter Silverado pulled around from the Armory, piloted by Newnan's own default sniper/concierge hogger. It pulled to a stop near the Nordic Girls' wagon, which was presently in front of the Courthouse. He nodded to the tall, fierce-looking lady in full mail armor, and to the two men escorting them all. Pretty girl. Nice armor. He would have loved to get a hold of a set of his own, despite the fact that it would horribly clash with his overalls. Probably his stetson, too. But back to business.

James whistled for a young lady passing by and handed off his walkie-talkie, with the instruction to "Run this back up the tower, honey. Spotter needs it more'n we do."

He waited with concerned impatience as Zoie outlined the plan to the new girl on the bike. It was necessary for all members of this little party to know what to do, and when to do it. Still, he could imagine the muted snarls of the Dead outside the walls, pressing ever closer. James wanted to be done with this task, and quickly. The had gone through enough today without a prolonged Dead Guy siege.

When the woman with the impressive baseball bat asked about transportation, James piped up, speaking in a polite (if hurried) Southern twang. "Evenin' ma'am. Name of James Mandingo Grady, friends call me Black James(!). As Miss Zoie 'splains it, we gonna need that crotch-rocket you on. Now, she gots the plan goin'; ain't much else to tell. We hold up a bigassed slingshot, Miss Zoie fires off them party favors. Now we gotta move 'fore we lose the light."

Terse, maybe. But he meant it as kindly as the urgency of the situation would allow. James put his truck into gear and eased the accelerator down, drawing them closer to their next task.

"'Sides, I got two sides of beef needs savin', 'fore she spoils."

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Bridgette Vinters

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Location: With the wagon, in front of the Courthouse

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The wagon was directed (ahem sorry, escorted) to an area of street in front of a building that, back before the world fractured, must have been a municipal building. The two men that gave them escort seemed civil enough, friendly even, in a guarded "I'm willing to shoot you dead" kind of way. Whatever happened here must have been massive. At least they were behind solid walls.

The feelings of muted gratitude for the walls and fuzzy empathy for the people behind them faded, at least temporarily, as their conveyance rolled past the Hordebuster on the way to the Courthouse. Bridgette gave the iconic truck a one-finger salute as she led Cadence past it. Yeah, that was the booze-fume dumptrain that brought a horde of Biters down on their location. Damned big one, too. It was only right that they redirect their mistake.

When they finally came to a halt, Astrid helped Redhead get the Future Mrs. Hook inside the building. Batgirl was busy talking to her Away Team about whatever the hell nigh-suicide she wished she was doing. Now Bridgette was alone with their weapons and supplies. Yup, just their weapons and supplies, Cadence, Edgar, their escort, and a good number of curious eyes. Truly alone.

Bridgette climbed up the wagon and sat on its edge, high above the eye level of the people milling around. She wanted a good vantage on her situation, and wanted to ensure that curious eyes didn't turn into curious hands with their belongings. She kept her face stern, but occasionally nodded at passersby in the interests of not being seen as a threat. These people obviously had enemies, aside from the non-breathing kind. She had no desire to be mistaken for one of them.

Her elevated line of sight gave her a good, full view of the Away Team getting set up to Away. She already knew the basic concept; slingshot with bungee cords and gardening tools. Sounded fairly basic. But what she saw - great, winged hewing spears instead of rakes and such - made her lose her inward calm for a moment. The spears were very much like her own. She was very familiar with those weapons, as well she should be. She had made them almost three years ago.

Bridgette saw Ash walking up behind them, looking ruggedly weary as he fell into military step behind the procession. He seemed quite the presumptuous one, holding his carbine in front of him and standing up straight, look of dead certainty in his tired eyes. Oh yes, very certain. She'd have to remedy that.

"Hey, Walldick!" she spat at him. "Oh, I'm sorry. Captain Walldick. Where the hell do you people get off salvaging our fucking supplies?" She pointed toward the trio in the Distraction Team, hefting spears in preparation of the maneuvers to come. She shifted her voice into a low, accusatory tone, "None of you asshairs are touching our shit until I get answers."

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Ashton Holloway

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Location: Newnan Inner Wall, Southern Gate Post

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Wow, she seemed pissed. The last issue seemingly ironed out, all parties inside the gates, and a joint mission to protect them all underway, and now Surly Viking Chick wants to start problems. Fine. Ash looked over to where Bridgette was pointing, and finally put a few pieces together.

Newnan had come across the walled and locked away settlement built out of the Renaissance Festival a while back. He had not been there personally, but from report from James it held very little in the way of obvious supplies. The weapons they recovered looked a lot like the ones that this livid woman carried with her, the spears (most readily observable) of almost identical construction. Then there was the comment she made earlier, about crafting her own weapons. Blood and sweat going into them, something like that. Ash stared at the woman, realization dawning on him.

This lady seemed really upset. Too upset to be short a few melee weapons and some armor. He suspected there was more. In time, they might just have to revisit the Fair in earnest. But for now, he wanted to make sure that their community was safe and his new guests were relatively satisfied. "Fairburn, right? That place was abandoned, Miss. Not a whole lot in there, I wouldn't call it supplies, persay. Rest assured we're mostly honest folk here. You've got questions, and we'll be happy to answer after the emergency's done, ok?"

This didn't seem to satisfy her, at least not completely. At least she wasn't about to cause a commotion about it, so time to explain was bought. Ash was about to continue, when his radio crackled to life.

"Captain? Hey, Ash? This is Jim, at the gate. You umm... You need to handle this, sir."

The tone of his voice was disturbing, almost heartbreaking to hear.

"It's Alicia, sir. She's come home."

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: The Regal Building, Apartment 1D (His), Street

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Caesar remained straightfaced at Lorna's sudden explosion of rage at his tattoo idea. He stood there, silently taking the verbal lashing from the younger woman. The second she turned to leave, a smirk manifested that quickly spread into a grin. He lightheartedly called after the Marine, "Orale Cookie, don't be that way! You don't have to get the face tattooed, but the Taco? ¡Muy importante!" He has laughing now, despite his best efforts to the contrary.

"Don't worry, M'hija. If you had to get the tattoo, I wouldn't have told you about it until we got to that parlor back home, ehh... Tenoch-TAT-lan. I know a guy. And you would have been drunk, M'hija. Very drunk. We would never tell your mother."

Just sometimes, it was difficult to tell if Caesar was being serious.

With the scene intact, footage taken, police briefed, several members of the media in need of outpatient treatment, his daughter repulsed, and semi-adopted daughter furious with him, Caesar knew that his job here was done. He turned his back on the scene, returning to the tables of food. The dishes were cold by this time, except for his Enchgelatos, which were quickly turning into a pan of spicy-soft custard and flour tortillas. He retrieved his dish and scraped the goppy mess into the nearest trash receptacle. Then he noticed a stack of disposable aluminum half pans among the homemade dishes, and formulated a cunning, devious plan to make his week a little easier.

He shoveled four of them full of unattended food, capped them, and nonchalantly sauntered back to his apartment. In the time it took him to store the foodstuffs in the fridge and pour a two fingers of Mescal, a rather urgent knock sounded from his front door. He eyed through the peephole. It was another cop. If they were going to bitch about where he parked his bike after the night he just had, then the duly appointed representative of the Justice Police Department was going to get a piece of his mind and/or machete.

But no, it was a somewhat more aggressive policeman, demanding answers as to why he left the scene. It went something like this:

"Why did you leave the scene?"

Caesar took a sip of his fragrant, flammable beverage before answering. "One of your guys already questioned me. My team got finished doing your job. Plus, being out there was cutting into my drinking time. Are we through?"

The officer shook his head. Apparently, they were they were, in fact, not done just yet. "What is your connection with the deceased?"

"No connection. Didn't know her, she didn't know me. But I already had this conversation outside. You going to ask anything new?"

"Were you living here when the last girl committed suicide?"

"Good. New question. Officer in charge give you a new list? I was driving down here from Seattle when the woman killed herself. When I arrived, some cop asked me questions about it. Showed him credit card receipts from a gas station and burger place on the way. It's on file at your precinct, whenever you want to check."

Caesar's tone was getting irritated. The officer must have noticed this, as his voice also became more impatient. He must have asked these same questions several times already, and was set to ask them several times more. "Why did you move in if you knew someone died in this building?"

"Someone died the next building over, genius. But I'll ask you - how many times have you seen death? Enough of your friends and family die around you, you don't care so much about a stranger in the neighborhood eating a bullet. Besides, already put my money down on this place. Corporate already moved my stuff in."

The Officer seemed somewhat intrigued by Caesar's last response. Or at least, he put a little more emotion into the standard question, "What do you do for a living?"

"Owner and Chief Executive Officer of Machete Security Solutions. Formerly a Commandant in the Mexican Federal Police - Retired. I do other things, too, but they don't have job titles that can go on resumes. Can I offer you a drink?"

The irritated police officer, now a bit more intrigued by the older man's story, declined with a quiet head shake. His face betrayed mild fascination as well as disbelief. He continued going down the list, though his voice had lost a bit of his edge. "Did you see anything?"

"Nope. Lady already landed by the time I got out there. All I did was secure the scene. Well, with a lot of talented, motivated help."

"Who do you remember being on the street?"

"It was a Block Party, Hura. Everyone was out there. I don't really know but two of these people, and they're with me. Look, are your sure you don't want that drink?"

The officer excused himself, most likely to knock on someone else's door that had already been questioned. Caesar had considered giving the man a business card, but the moment he revealed his profession to the recently vigilant policeman, certainty came with it that his history would be reviewed. A card would merely be redundant. No, it was now time to settle back for the evening, have a drink or three, grab a bit of leftovers for dinner and relax with the DVR and his fuzzy bunny slippers. There was going to be a lot of work and reviewing of footage tomorrow. But first things first: To the freezer. Caesar had a sudden desire to swirl a couple of ice cubes in his drink. He opened the door to the magical, frozen box wherein he kept his ice cube trays, only to be greeted with a thing of true delight.

"Ha! I knew I made two pans of enchgelatos!"

Despite the ugliness of the previous few hours, the evening just may be salvageable.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

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Keystone

Location: Road North of Salarn, Day Two

Interacting With: The Re-Revised Group

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The interior of the storehouse smelled of wet earth and woodsmoke. It had the look of a large room, set ablaze and put out with mud. In fact, at that moment, Keystone couldn't think of an expression better fitting for the situation than "a room set ablaze and put out with mud". While a good half of the floor was damp with the sluice of their labors, the other half was passably dryish. The odor of charred wood threatened to remain for quite some time; there was no getting around that little detail. However, the roof and weight-bearing timbers were intact. They would rest away from the penetrating cold of late season rain.

"Cheers for the assist, you two." he said, taking back his pots from Cyneburg and the newer newcomer Gretchin. He lay them outside in the heavy rain to rinse off, and swung open the doors fully. Keystone turned his attention to the merchant, Cremwise, motioning at him to drive the wagon inside. These items of mundane issue were the chief bits of concern to which he assigned himself; others in the group were better suited to deal with the obviously magical effects in play.

Scanning the scene, he quickly realized two things: There was little chance of getting hot food or real sleep again that night, unless there were factors unapparent to him. AS Cremwise maneuvered the apparatus bearing his goods and their supplies into the enclosure, Keystone made a brief circuit arounf the interior of the storehouse, searching for any other points of entrance aside from the main doors. He tapped boards to see if any were loose, checked to see if any small points of scorch still smouldered in ways that would be a problem later on.

Satisfied by his findings, the itinerant brawler recovered his pack, squared away his belongings, and prepared for a potentially quick exit, if necessary. The new cloak was folded carefully and placed among his belongings, if just for now. It might make an excellent lining for his coat later, if he could find a clothier or leatherworker with the time to do so at their next stop in a civilized area.

He had questions for both the Sana and their group's Captain, Kyra. They could definitely wait until the situation with the spellcaster was made apparent to the rest of the party. Until then, he would set up for the evening and ready for a long, watchful evening.