Sigil

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

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Keystone

Location: Road North of Salarn, Midday of Day Three

Interacting With: New Arrivals, Company, and a Growing Sense of Instability

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Keystone didn't seem to give as much concern to the situation as a classically sane person might, instead preferring to continue what promised to be strained negotiations by initially ignoring the clear and present threat. He cocked his head to the side as Sana addressed him, and responded accordingly. "Oi!" he shouted rather abruptly, "You ain't gotta spell out the naughty bits, I'm a full growed man, that I am. ...R-S-V-P... Fonging 'ell is a Risvip, anyways? Sounds like something a bloke gets thumped over."

Now, so much as Keystone adored banter, (and he truly did, as the occasion called for it) his usual sarcastic dialogue was cut off by the ongoing part of the conversation that didn't directly involve him. At least, until more than one person got the word "undead" out of their mouths, a horrible confirmation of what the Orc that attacked them had said the previous day. It was enough to stop him in his vocal revelry and focus his attention outward, in a manner even he didn't fully understand at that moment.

"Nope. No no no no. No bloody, fonging, nuh-cobyanking-uh. Ain't happenin'. Not again. Better not be, leastaways, eh?" His voice took on more of a roaring quality as he continued, shaking his fist at the sky. "This a big sodding joke for you lot, innit? 'UGE bloody laugh ya get, playin' "Pin The Tail on the Keystone" then, don'tcha?" He stopped ranting at the sky, instead giving it a mildly confused look, as if he'd made some sort of mistake. Turning his attention to the ground beneath him, he continued his bluster. "Every fonging time I get stuck in a new place, bloody Powers-That-Be see fit to throw dead things my way, like I was some arseflappin' gravedigger. Digger ain't got the worry on about their corpses like I does, though, and you lot keep doin' it on purpose!"

Keystone laughed with mild hysteria, exclaiming, "I hate every bloody one of y... Hold up a tic." Keystone's demeanor shifted. The slightly more intelligent, or at least suspicious, side of him flashed to the forefront. He hopped down from the wagon and took two involuntary steps toward Cremwise before stopping himself. "You, lit'l man. What's all this about "Dead walkin' the streets", and whatnot? You an' me left town, same bloody time, and I didn't see corpse bloody one millin' about in Salarn. I'd have noticed. Gets me all violent an' twichy, you little sod."

Another conclusion was reached in the moment, one he most assuredly vocalized, so long as he had the floor. "That why your bumchum Femnal pointed out us what just got into town that day? Is it? All some bloody scam to profit offa folks killin' one another, innit?" Keystone didn't care at this time what was going on around him, unless it suddenly involved immediate personal threats. "I swear by everything applewood smoked and meaty, I'm gonna force that sodder Femnal to make sweet boingy to your nostrils, Cremmy my lad, 'til your face splits. It'll be right messy and powerful ungentlemanly, but it'll be worth it to watch you choke on Gnome-splattage."

"Tell you somethin' else, too. Your goods got to your contact. Our contract is ended."

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

Lawrence was going down anyway. LLA and the player's actions commanded it thusly.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@FantasyChic

OH! Most important rule of all: Do NOT get too close to Ash. Trust me on this.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@FantasyChic

We've all had characters die in this RP. Happens. One must remember the words of the Great Philosopher Dory:

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: Queensguard Industries RnD Industrial Complex, en route to Justice Memorial

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Caesar accepted the flash drive and slip of paper from his daughter, wrapping the paper around the drive and slipping them both into a pocket. Maybe now was time to purchase a safe deposit box, somewhere in town. Just in case his company's system was compromised, it would be nice to keep a physical copy someplace. Likewise, he quietly accepted Lorna's offer for translation. He was a little surprised that he had forgotten she knew Russian; it's not like it was casual dinner conversation at the Casa Gonzalez. Then again, casual dinner conversation at his place commonly fell to more blood soaked conversations, such as how many teeth they collected that day, interspersed between financial projections and whatever was on TV that season. Such was the life of their violent and eccentric clan.

He waited until Alicia got back from taking her text message to speak a few words, "Girls, I know this seems like I'm going stir crazy in that apartment and need a case to work. Maybe I do. I don't know. There are people dying around us, and no answers why they are. Thank you for your help with this. If anything happened to either of you, I don't know what I'd do." His face grew grim, thoughts of blood and vengeance playing behind his eyes. "Be painful, though. Hurt a lot of people until I found the right one. Then I would strangle the pobre hijo de puta with his own intestines - cram his verga en la nariz, esa puta estupida..."

Caesar caught his rising anger and threw some restraint on top of it. This would help no one. Yet. Still, he did have a strong feeling that tapping into the building concern and rage that fueled some of his best work would be necessary before this was over, with or without the backup due to arrive the next morning.

Backup! Mierda. He needed to make some minor preparations before then. It could be done by phone, but he had to get it together before close of business today. Caesar reached into his pocket for his phone, quite surprised when it buzzed quietly in his hand. He had just received a text message of his own... and from an unknown number.

The number, while unknown, was somehow familiar. Caesar stared at it for a few seconds before rummaging through his jacket. He produced a slightly creased business card he had been handed the previous night, after the brouhaha with Danica Graves. The beginnings of a confused look taking his face, he spoke aloud, "M'hija, thank you. Cookie, please let me know what you find out. I have to go now. Apparently someone murdered Detective Gregory's boss, and he wants me to give him a ride someplace."

What the hell? Couldn't hurt to foster some goodwill with the one cop that looks like he's actually trying to do his job. But he wasn't going to get all friendly just yet. He left the security room after collecting his personals and information, then headed over to the company's motor pool. Caesar grabbed a spare motorcycle helmet and put in a request for a company vehicle to me made ready for an incoming Agent, then jogged out to his trike. Minor irritation evident, he shoved the helmet into a saddlebag, grabbed his own, and took a moment to answer the incoming text.

Sorry to hear. Be there in 15. You're riding bitch.

He revved up his Harley and swiftly narrowed the distance between himself and Justice Memorial Hospital.

Translations

pobre hijo de puta = poor bastard
verga en la nariz = dick in their nose
esa puta estupida = that stupid bitch
Mierda = Shit

🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed)

@Peaceless

Perhaps I can be of assistance. The item you are looking for is the Ship's Manifest. It would provide a list of crew, passengers, all supplies and any cargo brought in before the boat leaves port.

Dr. Moreau's name will not appear in the Manifest, and any search of Personnel Files will turn up zip. Not even an entry. Carla and Foy will appear on the manifest, but extremely minimal information in the Personnel Files.

The only person who knows anything about Jahosafat is the Captain, and even he only has his copy of standing orders, which will reveal little if any personal information, but can be verified by the person who gave said orders.

That about cover it, @Lady Amalthea?

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway

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Location: Infirmary

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So long as the crowd of lookie-loos were dispersed, Ash was fine. Well, not fine so much, but slightly more tolerant of the situation. With their Lead Medical down, the people of Newnan (specifically Froggy himself, now) had to rely on the level of training he had imparted upon one of their newer additions, Astrid. The stoic and stone counterpart to her rage and fire counterpart, Bridgette, she was the more logical choice to take on medical duties, if only for bedside manner.

Still, there was little that either of them could do. The request/announcement from Bryn that she was going to join Bridgette on the wall was met with muted acceptance by the Captain; Ash nodded his head and returned to Victor's gurney. He wasn't sure exactly what to do in this instance, but he was a man capable of keeping a cool head in a crisis and knew where most everything in this room was kept.

Ashton felt a touch of relief bloom inwardly as Astrid's ministrations seemed to improve Froggy's condition, though he would not allow his face to express it. Maybe when the older man opened his eyes and confirmed it himself, he would breathe a sigh of relief or crack a smile. Until then, hope was a luxury. Also until then, it would be a compelling reason that would get him to leave the premises. The two "battle maidens" - they had other work to perform. Ash would make sure they were informed of any changes, but until that time they were expected to give the wall some minor repair and see to any other duties assigned them for the day.

"Let me know when you need something." he intoned again to Astrid after the others had left. He intended to be here for a while. The peaches could wait, so long as they were stored properly. If it looked to be a long wait, Ash could suffice with forming a mash on the quick and returning. It wasn't a necessity for the survival of Newnan, but he did so detest wastefulness.

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Bridgette Vinters

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Location: Courthouse, interior and out front, by Cadence

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It was a short wait at the doors for Bridgette when the gnawing feeling of work undone began to get the better of her. Yes, she wanted to stick around and help out with Froggy's recovery, if indeed today was not the day that whichever god dotes over physicians decided not to call Victor to his side.

Bryn's affirmation that she would be along shortly, inferring the she should go along ahead was recieved, but not fully processed until the bat wielding maniac she called "friend" lay a hand on her shoulder. Bridgette was still held fast by the sight of Dr. Bonheur, unconscious on a table, being treated by her Battle Sister and their Community Leader. Well, almost exclusively Battle Sister, but Ash meant well. Perhaps he would pull double duty, scaring off people in his theatre of operation while she and Bryn tended to the Wall. He certainly looked capable of it right then. As soon as Bryn's hand made connection, Bridgette's head snapped around. She absently responded to her words from the moment before, "Yeah, um... I'll be by Cadence, out front, for a little bit first."

Bridgette backed out of the doors and into a empty lobby. Seems the threats of the shorter Icelandic chick were taken to heart, as far as she could tell. It didn't seem like the type of tactic that Ash would have approved, but it seemed functional. Still, she could hear her footsteps echo as she left the Courthouse, a thing she generally could not do otherwise.

Walking to her horse, she noticed the drama going on with Zoie and Dick. She sighed heavily and proceeded to her horse. Simultaneously, she felt embarrassed for them and something of an intruder into a private moment. She stared for a second or three, before shaking her head and continuing to Cadence. When she finally got there, she permitted herself a single, quiet piece of profanity. "...fuuuck..." she exhaled, and set to busy work of checking the contents of her saddlebags. Zoie was a really cool chickie, but she had the most annoying habit of letting her more squishy emotions get the better of her. It was a good thing that Zoie took to Bree and Astrid. They could help her out with that.

Ok, three more minutes, then it was off to the Wall.

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Black James!

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Location: Newnan, Inner Wall - Smoker

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"See, nobody tells ol' Black James a muthafuckin' thing no more." said the veteran Hogger, adjusting the vents on his massive smoker for an optimum balance of heat and smoke. He checked the drip can on the bottom of the apparatus to ensure it wasn't in danger of overflow, then continued speaking aloud to no one in particular. "I swear, it feels like a momentous damned day, and here I stand smokin' me some roadkill. Hot damn."

James shrugged. Then smiled. Then he laughed just a little bit. His way was not one of bitterness, not usually. "Whelp, when the important people get done with their important things, they all be happy to see Black James with a plate full of The Good Shit. Yessir. Blackneck saves the day yet again."

Darker Than Black - Ch. 2: Retribution

Hell yes, sign me up for Chapter Two! Same characters, right? I've grown quite fond of my mildly unstable, elder Gonzalez.

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

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Keystone

Location: Road North of Salarn, Midday of Day Three

Interacting With: New Arrivals, & Company

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The sudden and smug "AHA!" face plastered across Keystone's visage took an abrupt downturn at the return of Sana and her new, greenskinned entourage. This was not exactly how he envisioned his day going when he woke and saw to his morning constitutionals, not at all: Outnumbered and partially surrounded, their employer caked in road mud and bits of wagon strewn about, the last quarter hour dotted with threats of violence.

It seemed that quite a few of his forays into contract work ended up like this. Maybe not this, specifically, but it wasn't the first time he'd been caught in a compromising situation by a group of armed people when he thought he had the upper hand. It was his estimation that if the large, brutish-looking Orcs wanted to begin with the ritualistic squishing of their shared collection of craniums, they likely would have started in their attempt. It would be a hard fight, no doubt, one they might not be able to win with their lesser numbers and lack of experience fighting alongside one another. So, before this became an issue of steel and blood, Keystone was willing to entertain the possibility of conversation. It's not like ending in violence wasn't still a viable option, anyway.

So, discussion. Keystone asserted his most diplomatic nature he opened negotiations, thusly:

"Well, buggerall's this s'posed to be about then, eh? Bacon's sake, Sana! You shoulda sent word back. I ain't got goose enough to go 'round for us and y'new friends, there. Who're you lot then, and what the bloody, wankchoking 'ell else is squatting unseemly arsepudding on my afternoons?"

🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed)

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William Harper

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Location: Bridge

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Lieutenant Harper couldn't quite suppress a smile as he engaged the Retribution's atmospheric grav propulsion, lifting the vessel lazily off of the ground. It had been quite a while since he'd maneuvered a craft any larger than a personal conveyance or industrial (read: Prison) hauler; the experience was ambrosia to the starving. It took a great deal of self-control not to slam the ship into a controlled, rising spiral and slam the docking thrusters on at the last nanosecond, pointing them in the precise direction of departure, followed up by an immediate and dramatic flare of twin engines running to Alliance standard precision. The sudden jolt would have put them offworld before the G-Force inspired vomit of the crew ever hit the decks.

But no. Another time, maybe, gorramit... Nope, this time it was quiet and simple. The grav units brought his New Girl up nice and easy, thrusters maneuvered her into position, and the Retribution steadily angled into position, idling carefully into the flow of traffic making their exodus from the Eavesdown Docks.

The moment they had open sky, Liam aligned the ship's forward momentum with Persephone's axis turn and, making the planet's gravity work for them, at least marginally. Not that it was required for a stocked vessel of this power; it just felt good to do "pilot stuff". And, it didn't break regulation. Just the tiniest flourish, if you will; the signature of a pilot taking a ship up for the first time.

The very second that the Retribution hit the Black, Liam breathed an audible sigh of relief. He was off Persephone and moving far, far away from the hole that took years of his life. He was Lieutenant William Harper, Alliance Navy Flight Officer with a shiny new assignment doing routine Alliance Navy lā shǐ. Distasteful, but it bought his freedom. At least he could fly, and that was something.

Lt. Harper opened the P.A. and addressed the crew once more. "Attention, Flight Officer Harper speaking. We have successfully hit open space. You may unharness and return to duty. Per orders, our destination is Whitefall. At present speed and heading, we should arrive in approximately two days, sixteen hours. That is all."

He had noticed the return of the Captain, electing to stay on task rather than risk an unnecessary conversation with a man he hadn't previously met and did not know a thing about. Instead, he sought to keep it brief. "Sir? Sir. We are presently at full burn in clear and open sky. Proximity alert is set and coordinates are fixed to high orbit around Athens, synchronous with Whitefall. With your permission, I would like to see to my personals and familiarize myself with the ship, Sir."

Translations

gorramit - (have you watched the show at all?)
Lā shǐ - Shit

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Quarters, Out And About

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The Esteemed Mr. Foy Coiffeur strapped himself into the nearest harness. He never did like those things. A halfway decent pilot would have been able to bring them swiftly and carefully out of the atmosphere and on their way without much in the way or bumping about. At least, smooth enough to weather it with a simple handhold on a support or rail. Still, Foy was on an "Official Alliance Vessel". As such, it was bound by "Official Alliance Regulations", which meant that, unless he wished to thumb his nose at his contract holders, he was going to strap in just like everybody else.

Foy reached into his vest pocket and produced a masterfully crafted platinum pocketwatch, complete with filigreed moustache. As the ship lifted from the earth beneath it, the Gentleman Mercenary made it a point to monitor the time it took until the ride gentled, indicating full immersion into open space. "Not bad, New Guy. Not bad at all, sir." He took a few seconds to wind the very fine chronometer, not that it needed it. The watch itself would run for a great span of time before requiring upkeep, but the manufacturers knew that many of its clientele would be timepiece purists; the sort of people that would want the tactile experience of an Earth-That-Was pocketwatch.

He unbuckled his harness and leapt up smartly, striding with enthusiasm toward his quarters. He had promised someone a dram of Londinium Brandy, and there was, of course, the vulgar topic of new orders. Well, such was the life of a Private Contractor bound to an Alliance Contract. There were ways to extricate himself from an unfavorable contract; Foy had seen to many such clauses in his own standard paperwork. Still, a good friend, good spirits, and the intrigue of a mystery out here in the Black...

A flask and two glasses accompanied Foy on his quick and simple search for Jahosafat. This looked to be quite the day indeed.