Sigil

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: Just outside of Queensguard Private Airfield

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"Stay close." cautioned Caesar, looking with an eye for detail into the gaping maw that was the drainage system. something didn't seem quite right about all of this. Logic intruded upon the murderous calm that was Caesar's thought process at the current, throwing a series of Maybes and the like at him. If this was the spot that Alicia met her end, then why hadn't these people fixed the grate yet? It had been vastly more than long enough for it to have been handled. Assuming that some manner of red tape prevented the immediate repair, then physical guards should have been stationed around an obvious intrusion point into an otherwise secure location. This could be a trap, plain and simple.

The alternative was that they (whomever "They" were) didn't realize yet that this is were their unwanted guest penetrated the defenses. If that person was Alicia, then she obviously wasn't murdered here. The killer(s), if involved with Queensguard, would have seen to the repair.

Then another, somewhat more horrifying possibility hit Caesar: What if it was a double-cross? If Alicia and Lorna had a partner in this, uninvolved directly with Queensguard, betrayal would explain why the grate wasn't fixed if indeed his daughter was killed here. In which case, looking for evidence further in may just be an unnecessary risk. Unless, of course they got their final experience with backstabbing while exiting the premises.

Whatever the reason, Caesar wanted to give this place a thorough once-over before continuing in, pipe and water both. He began making his way further into the watery passage, eyes open and searching. The concept of walking through at least knee deep water was not very appealing, and not only from a level of personal comfort. Leaving a wet trail behind them would seriously hinder efforts to remain hidden, were they to continue inside in broad daylight. Caesar made the decision to keep behind those bushes for a little bit, getting an accurate lay of the land.

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J. Keystone

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Location: Queensguard R&D Industrial Complex: Security Hub

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Half of his time down, half to go. The expectation was twenty minutes, and for the most part, his people were doing their jobs admirably. Perhaps it was a stroke of luck, working the hell out of the layabouts and dismissing them afterwards. If they wanted to cause trouble, they would be exhausted. Most likely they weren't around. This was a good thing.

The concept of putting a building, or even series of buildings, on lockdown was actually more technology-oriented then anything else; it was much like securing battlestations on a ship. Most everything could be handled from the Hub. Broadcast goes out to active security personnel to man their stations and be on alert, not to allow unnecessary persons in or near anywhere without proper authorization backed up by logs and technological measures. Entrances and exits required a physical presence, confirmed by the camera systems in the Hub, were well-rested men and women kept sharp eyes on the screens and structural electronic systems.

Keystone himself took two minutes to acquaint himself with the company's equipment room, grabbing one of two items to make himself useful working the ground. It was where he was better, anyway. After stripping down to his t-shirt, he grabbed the same kind of gear that walking security personnel used; ballistic vest and black blazer, earpiece tuned to company frequencies. It wasn't his preferred gear; that was kept back at his apartment. But it did give a sense of uniformity that one might expect from a professional, private security force. He clipped his plastic-covered company I.D. to the front of his borrowed jacket, and returned to the Hub to await the arrival of this V.I.P. that, if the Boss was correct, wasn't due back for another week or two. He intended to meet this person with a team of three, including himself, as soon as the vehicle stopped in front of the complex.

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: Egyptian Museum

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The Lord Major looked to William incredulously, hearing what he had to say on the matter of equipment for an archaeological dig. He was no expert in the subject, but being in Vera's presence for the past few years had exposed him to the more subtle actions of one pursuing artifacts from ancient civilizations, particularly this one, buried beneath shifting sands and alluvial soils. There was no way that this man, a professional in the subject, knew less than the Lord Major. This had to be an attempt at humor.

"Now Mr. Drake, I do believe the Lady Munn suggested that you lend your expertise outfitting a proper dig, sir. Proper. I've suspicion that we shall require sundries more delicate than "picks and shovels". Nonetheless, I'm certain this jocularity is birthed of the stresses of an overwhelmingly unusual evening; as events prior prevent me from giving you my pardon outright, I might at least lend it to you on this occasion. With your leave, sir."

Reginald turned to exit the room, hopefully pulling the others in tow (except for the two Vera had requested stay to assist). He paused for a half moment to address Aziza's concern of escort. "Positively, madame. The good Sergeant is more than welcome to attend. In fact, I insist." His voice grew louder, as if expanding his audience to include the whole room, "Point of order, I should insist that we all give the Lady and her entourage of intellectual and technical expertise room to operate. As I said, I shall be hosting the Afters, of sorts, in the courtyard. Lovely view of the Nile, under guard by proper soldiery. If you have a competing offer elsewhere, then by all means..."

The Lord Major stopped, seemingly stunned. Vera had moved toward the door for the purposes of asking the Curator something pertinent to the topic at hand, only to be stopped by yet another newcomer to the party. A younger man, that obviously knew Vera with more than passing familiarity. His actions, his words; these were things that would make Reginald threaten violence and admonish later on, whether or not it came to blows. Instead, he took a moment and stood transfixed, staring at the man with his mouth still open, mid-sentence.

His brain endeavored to process what he was seeing, even as his mouth tried to continue the thought that was now utterly lost on him. "...by all means... I, ah... No. No, I've finally gone and pickled myself then, haven't I?" The old man looked lost, even senile as he spoke nonsense in a quiet voice. "You positively cannot be you. I saw you..."

It took the Lord Major a good moment to understand that he was not crazy, nor was he dead, nor was this a vengeful spirit, come to torture him in his waking world for transgressions past. It was confirmed when he heard his adoptive niece breathe the man's name aloud: Peter. Reginald snapped back into reality, taking in the scene with as much objectivity as he could muster. A smile slowly formed upon his face as he allowed the facts unfolding in front of him. Abruptly, and without explanation, he exploded into joyous laughter. "Ha HAAA!!! By Jove, old boy. You're a ghost! Come along there lad! It's HUGGIE TIME!"

Quite possibly ruining whatever moment Peter and Vera might have been experiencing just then, Reginald rushed forward, grabbing the both of them up into a great, sweeping hug. They lifted from the ground, in ground zero of the blast of the Lord Major's continued, unabated guffawing. He almost seemed to dance, the old man twirling the both of them around once, a bear-like grasp holding them to himself. The action inferred that the Lord Major was still fairly burly, despite other evidence hidden underneath the bulk of age.

He set them both back down in more or less the same spot they were prior to his attack, pure joy beaming from the man. "Quite apologetic, Lady Munn. But you!" he redirected his attention at the newcomer, "You are dead, sir. Quite dead. Monumentally dead. We had a memorial, you see. There were fistfights. Your father, the old codger, and I went round for round in the gardens, more than half inebriated from "In Memoriam" toasts. We were not the only ones, either. You are dead, Peter."

"Whatever is a dead man doing in Cairo?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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The Great Bazhooli

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Location: Building 7 (Rec Center)

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It had been a very strange day. Strange, but quite hopeful. Just this morning, The Great Bazhooli had been traveling down a stretch of southern railway via handcar, little ammunition and zero food, his only companion for quite some time being a fuzzy, orange tom cat that came and went as he pleased. He had lost much. Not necessarily moreso than anyone else, but the hit had come more recently. His group - family and friends for as long as he could remember - were wiped out, a long way up the tracks north and west of this particular haven. The shock had long receded, but profound sorrow, plastered over by optimism, remained.

What he did know was, being with a big group of likeminded people for his entire life within which he held a position of high regard, The Great Bazhooli did not know how to be alone with much proficiency. He had hated being by himself. That little cat had no idea the amount of mental stability it lent him in what was probably the worst few weeks of his life.

Day One in Newnan, a community that did not exist (so far as he was aware) when last he came through this area, and he was already given food, a basic but welcome place to stay, and was being introduced to some truly interesting people, one of whom was a member of the old Russian Ballet. Were it not for the fact that she was already spoken for, Bazhooli would have most certainly set his sights on the young lady's affections. Of course, here she was engaged. And more intriguing, the groom-to-be had just asked him to be the Best Man. Hadn't known the guy but for a few minutes, and he's Best Man material. He'd never been one before, not in the traditional sense. Oh yeah, today was a very strange day.

The Great Bazhooli regarded the man with the funny accent with some seriousness. It quickly cracked, replaced by a jolly, sideways glance and a voice colored with Happy. Stretching his arms wide in anticipation of an emotional moment, he spoke in a cheerful voice. "Da! Of course I vill be Best Man! One day, I hope you do same for me, yes?" He pulled the man into a great, masculine hug, lifting his feet off of the ground and thumping his back several times.

What the hell? Maybe he just found a new best friend. Even if not, it was a worthwhile undertaking. Of course, finding the proper tux might involve ninjaing about the rest of former Newnan, possibly dispatching both the living and the dead with munitions and knifepoint introductions, only to find out that the groom lost weight over the past few months and his sizes were no longer accurate. Why, oh why couldn't a proper tailor had survived? Part and parcel with living in the world today. Being the Best Man may have just been upgraded into a contact sport.

"So many things to do, Mr. Jack! There's... da, and then there's..." whether he was actually verbalizing his thoughts on the matter, his brain was going through a multitude of organizational chores (that they likely wouldn't need), the acquisition of a proper tuxedo of course, and decent shoes (again, might not need, but it would be best to get anyway), and the biggest duty of all...

"Bachelor Party. Da." The almost mischevious look on his expressive face said it all. Of course, The Great Bazhooli would need to get to know a lot of the people around here very quickly, in order to arrange what was needed. Several elements made up a good one. He was going to have to see what this lace offered, and what he had to exit the Walls to procure.

"Bachelor Party."

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Bridgette Vinters

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Location: Following Astrid

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Bridgette was going to follow that stoic bitch wherever she dared take them. Even if it was off with bikers, away from the only safe place they'd found in a great long while. Though not blood, she was a sister nonetheless. And it's not like Astrid had never tagged along for one of her rage and hate inspired forays into blood and violence. Sometimes, the tall lady was dead certain that her sister enjoyed it as much as she did. Maybe even a bit more, some of the time.

What surprised her, however, was her treatment of Ash. She wasn't sure why she hadn't picked up on it before, but in the moment before she edged her Edgar from the gates, Bridgette believed that she was actually flirting with the man. Not hardcore, but for someone who knew Astrid, it was a definitive change in her usual manner of treating people. Sounding in the back of her mind came the thought, "Holy shit! Astrid's got the wet crotch for Walldick! This is news!" Granted, she couldn't tell anybody. And she had to confirm first, before she went off half-cocked (which she had a tendency of doing exactly). But in the moment before they all took off toward wherever the hell they were going for their Mission of Mercy, Bridgette absolutely HAD to mess with Ash. And his new friend.

A big grin hidden by a sultry expression on her face, Bridgette looked down from her horse to Ash, and in a clear, husky voice (for the benefit of Ash's company, naturally) said, "Don't you worry, sweetie. Me and Astrid'll be back real soon to keep you warm. We'll wake you up later, hmm?" She licked her lips and gave a quick wink, implying more to the statement. Then she was off, ever the Warrior Woman, looking quite the part of her once notable title of "Shield Maiden of Fairburn".

Her horse, Cadence, seemed thrilled to open up his speed like this. Depending upon need, he could be classified as either a Charger or as a Destrier. Cadence was a horse bred for war, a rare thing this day and age. But maybe it didn't have to be. It was a thought for another time; she had to make her charge to cover the remaining distance between Astrid and herself, settling into a gallop about a length behind her sister and off to the right. Bridgette looked over to her sister, catching the side of her face every so often, and a smile would come over her. They had a bit to talk about, after this emergency was over.

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Ash Holloway

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Location: Main Gate -> Building 1, Infirmary

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Ash was mortified. A little scared, even, though it didn't show on his face. There was a small glimmer in his eyes that seemed to threaten murder, mixed with some humor. But mostly murder. He didn't dare turn to his guest, Beni, until both Valkyries were out and the Gate had come to a close with all parties inside.

Refusing to make comment on what everyone had just witnessed, from both women, Ash instead directed the conversation toward business. "I will show you to our medical facilities, sir. Introduce you to our Doctor, and let him take over the logistical end of our conversation. If you would please, this way."

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

@Lucius Cypher

And you are up, sir.

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

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Keystone

Location: Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Evening of Day Three

Interacting With: Undead Melee

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After full melee was joined, the skeletons spread out and attempted to penetrate their line. To a degree, they were even effective in this task. Enough at least for two of them to have slipped behind the more physical warriors and make a run for their healer, as if they knew who she was and her value to their group. All the same, Keystone had fought hordes of the Undead before. This was a vastly inferior force than was needed to take their location. He had taken out nearly as many skeletons by himself, a few months ago. Of course, geography was on his side; he was able to bottleneck the approaching bony horde and lay down some decidedly unpleasant fisticuffs upon them.

The one skeleton that got in his way was now a clunky pile of people-ivory, though it was admittedly not his best work. Keystone risked a glance back to assess the condition of the rest of his team before continuing forward to the bucking, once steak-covered adversary that presently beleaguered Sana. What he saw made him question the sanity of his compatriots.

Calanon seemed clear. The naked Half-Orc had a skeleton attached to the end of his broad, shaggy blade. Looked like fun. Satilla was scared, two skeletons making for her, one gaining the attention of a rather angry looking crocodile, the other the incantations of their recently acquired spellcaster, who had decided to completely ignore the aggressive dead guy two feet from him.

The pause as Keystone took in this last spectacle was apparently enough for one of his framework assailants to break away from the Orcs to the side and stab a short sword into him. He was able to block the blade away, for the most part. It skipped off f his bracer and the harder parts of his coat, but still managed to snag and penetrate his upper arm. The problem was, the scarred brawler had someplace he needed to be - out front, beating a skellybull into ossified shards on the cold, uncaring ground. But first things first - get to Sana.

"PROTECT SATILLA!" he bellowed, confident that the combined combat prowess of the others present could handle three skeletons without loss of life. As long as they had someone gifted with the ability to close their wounds and pull their heads out of their ribcages when necessary, their more minor hurts could be suffered in the interim. Keystone had somewhere to be. Whispering a single word in a long unused dialect, the bracers on his forearms thrummed to activity, and the broad man sped into action.

His first motion was to launch an ordinarily heart bludgeoning palm-heel strike into the sternum of the skelly that had just put a blade into him. Destroyed it or no (it was likely), the force of the strike from a man like that may very well shove the creature back from where it came, to the Orcs it was originally attacking. The rest of his attention for the next moment would be centered straight ahead, full attack. There's a bovine that needed to die.

...again.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

Noticed that I am on Day Three. I will be posting after work tomorrow. Should keep me in the time period provided. Thanks for your patience.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: Just outside of Queensguard Private Airfield

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"She's early..." growled Caesar. His contract holder, Elizabeth Queensguard, had specifically stated when Ms. McCormick would be back in town. It would not be for a while, yet. Something must have changed. The life of a highly placed government official was certain to have many unexpected events pop up, but this seemed a touch suspicious.

Caesar was learning a little bit about living in Justice. Apparently, a big one indicated that there were no coincidences; everything was related. Suspicious activity, thing that were out of place should be treated as exactly that, until such time as it can be proven otherwise. At this time, however, he couldn't let his attention be split between two objectives. He promised Cecily something. That something would likely assist in discovering the identity of his girls' murderer. He couldn't abandon her just now.

Switching function of his satellite phone, he punched up Keystone's secure line. Before he hit the call icon, he popped his head over to where his partner in subterfuge was inspecting. Caesar glared inside of the drainage pipe, taking note of the hole cut out of it. "M'hija was here..." Maybe she was and maybe she wasn't. Very circumstantial. But the it was an interesting coincidence - one of those things that didn't really happen in Justice. He confirmed the call.

Speaking in low tones, he kicked things off. "Secretary McCormick just landed, far ahead of schedule. Might be something. Agency escort. Put a tail on her." He looked into the pipe again, still on the line with Keystone. Yeah, they were going in there. Had to. It was imperative, now. While the large man responded, Caesar removed his bandana and handed it over to Cecily, motioning at her tattoo.

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J. Keystone

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Location: Queensguard R&D Industrial Complex: Security Hub

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Meanwhile, back at HQ, the day had gotten very interesting. Word had come in through standard company communications that they were to put the building under immediate lockdown. Last minute VIP coming in; for all Keystone knew it was some Queensguard inspector or another, checking to see if there were any problems with the company's new outside security firm. He wouldn't put it past them, not one bit. One thing that he did do, and well, was manage security protocol. Naturally, it involved a lot of yelling.

"Bloody fuckin'ell, you! Get on the horn, call back every bronzecock what's on break. Tell 'em five minutes or it's their arse, yeah?"

"You! Back in full uniform! Find your watch sergeant! You got massive shite needs doin'!"

"FULL LOCKDOWN, PEOPLE! We gots a guest arrivin', and bloody soon!"

Then there was the call from Caesar. Foreboding, ominous even. His response was understandable, give the circumstances. "No can, boss." he barked out in his businesslike, Cockney accent. "Word in from our contractor, we've got a VIP movin' this way double quick. They want full security in 20, an' I'm a little short 'anded. We got it, but can't spare a body for ya, not even me."

"Did they say who? Could be the Secretary." That would be another of those Justice, CA "coincidences" that Caesar had noticed.

"Nah, didn't say who. Sounds right likely, though. I'll keep you sped, yeah?"

"Text. Doing something quiet, here."

"Yeah, Boss. On it."

Before the phone dropped connection, Keystone could clearly be heard telling some unfortunate bastard to "Stop sodding about!", referring to him as a "Bloody Wankstain" with true vigor in his voice. Yeah, they should be ok, so long as Keystone gave the illusion of manners when their guest arrived. The good news was, Keystone got his digital copies. The bad news, no quiet place that served hard liquor to review them. At least, not for a while yet.

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: Egyptian Museum

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Reginald had thought to take a quick nap earlier in the day, as a precursor to having a rollicking night out on the town. Grab a few drinks, take in a show, grab a few drinks, maybe give the old airfield a once-over, before coming back to his quarters and having a nightcap down in the Officer's Club. But his odd, recurring dream had taken a turn for the violently realistic, and before he knew it he was in a room with a handful of people having similar experiences, many more serious than his own.

Oh yes, it was quite adventurous. All of this mystery promised a trip into open sands, gallivanting off in search of answers to questions unasked for thousands of years. Quite exciting. The only problem for him was, until this little excursion was underway, his presence was a touch useless. Maybe as a calming voice of experience, but the brains of this operation was definitely Vera. Is was why, when the suggestion hit that his endeavors would be better spent securing supplies and munitions for their little fact-finding mission, he stepped into the role wholeheartedly.

"Yes yes, proper notion, that." he bubbled, giving an obviously false sense of mild affront. "Well then, if I am relegated to play Quartermaster to this outing, so be it. I suppose I am best qualified to supply and outfit a overland journey, and I do have the resources to pull it all together in short order."

The Lord Major looked to William, looking him up and down before speaking. "I should suppose that you would know significantly more about the tools and such required for an archaeological dig, yes? But unfortunately, any such legitimate suppliers have long since shut their doors, and illegitimate ones generally require some manner of advance notice, lest they respond with underlings and firearms, of course."

"I recommend that those of us without the educational wherewithal to properly decipher these new findings, nor assist with the proper referencing of this particular library adjourn elsewhere and clear the room for the intellectuals to do their work. If necessary, I shall have a military escort for anyone that requires it. For the rest of us, I should recommend some discussion over drinks in the Qasr El Nil Barracks courtyard. It is lovely in the evening. Aha! Followed by a proper night's rest. I intend to start us quite early."

"If need be, there are quarters for visiting dignitaries in the barracks. It is just across the way, you see, and I would be happy to host. When you are done, I shall be waiting there hence. Unless there is more that you need of me, Lady Munn?"

In truth, it looked like the heavy thinkers in the room needed their space and time. Reginald was more than willing to clear the room of distractions, personal feelings aside. Tomorrow would start an interesting day, and under cover of potent libation, conversation had unique possibilities, as well.

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

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William Harper

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Location: Med Bay -> Out-Of-Service Lavatory

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Harper got the message, loud and clear. Both the actual words of it and the deeper meaning behind them. He was a First Lieutenant and Flight Officer, with very little in the way of technical expertise in his dossier (regardless of his actual knowledge, which was admittedly extensive). The actual words indicated that the Captain (or proxy thereof) wanted him to assess and possibly do something about an atmospheric imbalance originating from a bathroom. However, the meaning behind this was clear: Harper as on bitch detail, probably along with everyone else.

It was insulting, really. Mostly because the I.A.V. Retribution had someone on board that would have been better suited to engineering tasks. At least on paper. Oddly enough, the ship's Engineer. On a boat with a larger crew, he or she would have some manner of flunkie or new guy to handle a non-perforating pressure imbalance, along with mopping floors and/or seeing to the waste disposal units. Even a smaller vessel like this, if fully staffed, would have someone from Engineering to take a look at a difficulty that obviously had monstrously little to do with flight plans, astrogation, or piloting the boat.

Either the Engineer was really, really busy and desperate for anyone else to handle the issue with the atmo, or someone higher in rank than himself was proving a point. Not like it mattered precisely why. He was Alliance Military, and someone gave him an order. It was reputably difficult to desert one's assignment while hurtling through space. The thought did cross Harper's mind.

With a sigh, he looked to Foy and gave him the news. "Mr. Coiffeur, I've been ordered away. I don't know how long I will be, so you may need to find someone to help you with that last box. Excuse me."

William gave a nod in the direction of Jahosafat, straightened his uniform, and exited Medical. He knew where the lavatories were, and had a feeling he wouldn't miss which one they were talking about. Up the ladder, just aft of him, and back up toward the front, along the corridor. It really was a well-planned ship, designed so that the crew could make efficient runs from one section to the other at moment's notice. As long as you knew which floor your destination was on, it was easy to figure out. As he neared the crew's quarters, his suspicions were confirmed.

3A, red banner plastered across the door, calmly reading in block letters, "OUT OF SERVICE". Imagine that. They had taken off without making some manner of minor repair which probably tripped an indicator, now that they were up in the Black. Reasons for an atmospheric imbalance did occur to Harper; all of the crap had to go somewhere that was easily removable from the exterior of the vessel. There were tons of reasons how an imbalance could happen. Regardless of what his file said (or didn't say), he had a vastly superior education as it came to mechanical and technological engineering, not to mention a proven knack for computers. He could puzzle this out without breaking a mental sweat. Most likely, it was a redundancy failure. Because it was only in the one stall, that narrowed the possibilities further.

Basically, it meant that the difficulty was highly localized, not leading to the outside. If it were, they wouldn't have quietly sounded an "Atmo Imbalance", it would have been a highly noisy klaxon call of "Hull Breach". Pulling air into in reclamation tanks would be the most likely culprit. Steadying a solid handhold on the wall next to the door, even going to far as to brace a knee against it as well, Harper depressed the button to open the door.

It refused to budge. Not surprisingly, if one thought about it. Locked from the inside; occupied. This lent a whole new color to the situation. He touched his comm unit, addressing the Bridge. "Harper, William. Officer override, lock on 3A." A quiet beeping sound indicated the desired result. He braced and tried again.

A harsh intake of air filled the hallway as the door cracked open. Liam's muscles strained against it as he watched the scene inside, revealed by the seeming slowness of the door's opening. A hollow lump of flesh squatted atop the toilet, compressed and rubbery but still recognizably human. Its mouth was still agape, screaming loud and long as the air rushed through the only avenue it could - through the thing's mouth and into the partially depressurized bilge. Harper looked upon the sheer grotesquery of the misshapen blob of hollow, unsupported flesh, the whistling of air through it reduced to more of a pitiful whimper, an anticlimactic whine of fleshy machinery powering down as the air pressure stabilized.

"Lieutenant Harper to Bridge. I found the Doctor. I'm going to need a Yeoman with a strong stomach and someone from Medical. No rush."

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Medical

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Foy looked about the Medical Bay. Gentlemanly courtesy demended that he finish the job to which he had been set by his good friend, Jahosafat. There were only two people left, aside from himself; one was the very friend that requested that the task be done. Asking him to assist would be patently rude. Not that Foy had any difficulty being rude, mind you. It was a sort of sarcastic catharsis for him, acting in a manner that was polite and proper, yet rarely friendly. Particularly as it involved one of more of the unwashed masses. They had their place, granted, taking care of the grunt work and agricultural needs that were required for society to function; every proud anthill needed workers to keep things moving along. There was even a sense of quiet pride in it.

But Foy's pride was anything but quiet. No, his pride was a blazing zeppelin, dressed in rhinestones and screaming poetry to the awestruck and fearful masses running and screaming for their lives. Nonetheless, a little labor was needed to fulfill the obligation of his word, and a little humbling of self was required to accomplish even that. Foy looked to the only other person in the room.

"Why, Miss Lobo! Lovely as ever, I see. Still sinewy of arm, I trust?" he smiled underneath his preened moustache, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. One such as Carla, a woman having professional familiarity with the man (and not in his capacity as a barber), would know that this sort of flattery was an extremely, laughably thin example of buttering up, soley for the purpose of putting in a request a second afterwards. It likely came as no surprise when he continued, "If you could avail me the use of your physicality, madame, I would be obliged. I have one such container remaining in Cargo, and would greatly appreciate your assistance."

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

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Updates

Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: Night, middle of
Weather: Cool and damp, with a clear, open sky
General Ambiance: AAAAAAAHHH?
Location: Front lines, defending the Orc Cave

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Three more down, but with the one additional coming in from the right, four more left to go back with the group near the fire. They are spreading out, possibly for the purpose of getting the defenders out of that close knot of Ouch within which they are bunched. There is still a particularly nasty looking bovine skeleton in mooing distance of Sana and Kyra. Not that it can actually moo. Vocal cord thing, you see.

While sourceless, echoing laughter seemed to be omnipresent throughout the first moments of this little skirmish, it is suddenly absent. There is a sense of foreboding quiet in the deeper wood.

The groups of Orcs around you all are making excellent sport of the bony attackers, suffering only minor wounds in the process. One looking to the far right could see one Orc grabbing the skeletal forelegs of another of the cattle skeletons while another knocks it over. The rest of their group take turns bashing it into its component parts. The general attitude around the cave is one of impending victory, with some sneers at an enemy that was easier to defeat than ever before. They are still intentionally staying away from the ones attacking your position, whether out of respect or malice is anyone's guess.

Specific Resolutions:

Calanon: Shield bash shoves the skeleton away, and your dexterous leap is successful in getting you into the fray. The spin is effective enough to get the other skeleton off of you, but it's still very interested in tickling your innards with something sharp. The follow-up sword atack finishes it off. One down. Unfortunately, the one that you shield bashed makes a dazzling comeback and attacks at your rear flank with something sharp. It manages to breach your chainmail and inflict light damage on Calanon's left shoulder.

Njat: Comes in next to Calanon. Shield bash is effective, scattering the skeleton. The nearest one up to attack is the skelly that just attacked Calanon; your swing hits its mark but does hot destroy it. Good news - it drops its weapon. Bad news - the skeleton is now stuck on your choppa, and it looks like it's there to stay.

Cyneburg: No problem shifting and getting to Satilla. Go Team Croc.

Thomas: Something strange about the glowy, red mist - it appears to be semi or non-corporeal. Nothing about the skeletons whatsoever. While taking rapt note of their aggressors, one skeleton managed to wriggle past the larger defenders and takes a swipe at you. It misses, but manages to knock your book from your hands.

Keystone: Bad luck, bad timing. The attempted "flurry of attacks" turns into a less pretty but still respectable disarticulation of one skeleton in front of him. He's no closer to Sana and Kyra, but now has the attention of another skeleton. Coming from the right, it broke off from the group attacking the Orcs one campfire over. It attacks Keystone and manages to land a light wound on his right bicep.

Kyra: Uncoordinated attack turns into more of a shove than anything else, but somehow makes it look really good as Ash uses the opportunity to finish it off. Ash may want to floss after this, but it's skull is in pieces and the wolf returns to the Ranger's side.

Satilla: Is behind Cyneburg, staff at the ready. Two skeletons have their eyesockets on you, one charging from your present rear flank, and one coming straight on, apparently not noticing the giant reptile on bodyguard duty.

Sana: Success with the handstand and and vault onto Epona. Further success standing on the back of the horse, but barely. The mount's training kicks in and prevents a fall. The leap is successful, but the strike with the bow is not; is gets lodged between its first and second rib, and is entangled with the former creature. Sana's on the beast, but it's still kicking and trying to toss her.