This was a time of reunion, the one moment of pure bliss that the Lord Major had experienced in a great while. Years, even. Perhaps if the actress and reporter knew of the magnitude of this meeting, the importance, the sheer feeling of soul-lightening relief and surprise so absolute as to benumb the senses and tingle the very corners of his soul with the radiance of long-forgotten hope; indeed if they could fathom the true sense of Consequence that this moment in time had for Reginald, and likely Vera as well, the two of them surely would not have acted in the manner that they did.
The urge to blow up in a manner most undignified welled up in the man, threatening to overflow into the room. He was a millisecond away from a finger wag and tongue lashing birthed of a strict upbringing of Anglican guilt, in fact spinning around to address the first such forcible transgressor who insinuated themselves into the conversation, the Hollywood Starlet. His mouth was beginning to open, tongue preparing to pull from his extensive, nobly educated vocabulary, when Peter made his assumptions as to the character of the woman, and the Lord Major.
Reginald froze.
The surprise was palpable. More than that, it was about a half second of glaringly obvious, brightly lighting his face until his own sense of public propriety reinstituted itself. His demeanor changed to that of highly restrained amusement as he turned back to Peter, speaking in a jovial but direct manner.
"My dear boy, discretion is the greater part of being a gentleman; and a Lord of the Empire must oft carry decorum with him, into the uncivilized wastelands of the wider world. An act such as you accuse me would be most ungentlemanly." A smile crossed his face. Reginald slapped the younger man's shoulder, motioning his thumb behind him. Still smiling, he brought his thought to completion. "Besides lad, she's not one of mine."
It was an open secret that the Lord Major availed himself of the occasional courtesan; a practice long regarded as standard among the Gentry, so long as one was discreet. The obvious indiscretion made by Peter was quite forgivable in his estimation, considering the intent was not to embarrass him but draw him into an assisted game of verbal checkers. "But wherever are my manners, Lieutenant? Yourself and Lady Vera must have quite the catching up to do! I should appreciate a lengthy talk with you as well, but manners dictate that the Lady have your attention first. I, and several others, were about to abscond to the Qasr El Nil Barracks Courtyard for drinks. Possibly a light supper. Do catch up the second you are able, yes? I've so many questions, you see. So many questions."
Upon hearing Beni's assessment of the Valkyries, as they had come to be known around Newnan (among other, more provocative titles), Ash nodded in agreement. Reserved and Colorful." he mused. "Again, you have a very diplomatic way of describing those two. They're good people, no doubt. Just sometimes, they try my damned patience. But they're good at what they do. Loyal. Trustworthy. And the both of them are brutal, unforgiving fighters. In another life..."
Ash stopped himself. In that moment, he realize the error or his statement. "No, they're suited to this life. Theme might have been different, but those women are impressive. I just wish they'd work on their people skills."
Introductions in the Infirmary done with, Ash was surprised when Froggy pulled him aside, worried about the safety of his friend and Medic, Astrid. "She'll be fine; Bridgette's with her." Ash paused, putting on a very surprised look. He never thought, under any circumstances, that he'd utter those words aloud. Trying to suppress his shock, he continued, "They traded hostages with us. It was Astrid's plan, actually. I guess Bridgette felt the same as you."
Ash nodded back to their guest and the armed escort. "The girls can take care of themselves. If this other group tries anything, we have their leader at gunpoint. I guarantee it won't be fast and easy. Let's wait and see. Meantime, maybe we can help each other."
Bridgette Vinters
Location: (at the side of) Franklin Rd/Hwy 34, headed west
Woman hanging from tree: Check Secluded section of road: Check Armed escort she didn't fully trust: Check Horse: Check Battle Sister: Check Quiet section of woodland: (a little too quiet): Check Big, shiny weapons: Check and Check
Good! Everything complete. This was the makings of one hell of a party. Or ambush. Probably both. Either way, Bridgette approached the scene with cautious haste. And a spear. Big one. The conversation with the lady on the end of the rope was somewhat productive. It revealed that she was alive and conscious, capable of not only speech, but irritation. Hey, AND profanity! Bonus!
Bridgette was careful to keep a good chunk of her awareness focused outward as she spoke to the rope-lady. "Dunno there, chicky. We've already got an Engineer. And a construction foreman. And some guy my sister fucked that works as a handyman. Be seeing you."
She turned her horse around and took a tentative pace or two away from the situation. Partly because she wanted to see Astrid's reaction, or any nonverbal cue to something she may have missed. But yes, partly because she wanted to mess with the girl check for the young lady's natural reaction. She turned back around, addressing the woman again. "On the other hand, I could use a date to the Prom, if you're into it..." she began in an only half-joking manner. "Ok, you've gone and talked me into it."
"Dekk meg, søs."1 intoned Bridgette, back over her shoulder. Then back to the woman, "Alright, hold onto me. You'll be safe(ish) with us, but feel free to fuck right off if you've got somewhere to be. Try anything, you're going to wish we goddamned left you here. Cool?"
Bridgette had already begun to swing her spear. The rope didn't stand a chance.
Location: Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Evening of Day Three
Interacting With: Exploding Dead People
Keystone was a veteran combatant of the Undead. It wasn't by choice, the vast majority of the time, it just worked out that way. Be it the will of gods or other forces greater than himself (yes, those exist), or merely the result of random occurrences coupled with a general trend toward magically hijacking certified pre-owned bodies, Keystone spent the greater part of the past few years doing battle with the undead. Remarkably, and unlike most of his fellow combatants, he had survived. Needless to say, the large man had come into contact with many different types of formerly living opponents. But this was new.
When the first one ran from the deeper woods, Keystone had the same prediction as the Orcs concerning the fate of the skeleton. The detonation, and subsequent felling of their greenskined allies, was shocking. His eyes widened as it all clicked into place. The first wave was supposed to be easy. Now the defenders were in the open, more vulnerable to ...whatever these new threats were. When they began to assault en masse, his alarm turned into resolve. This opponent could not be beaten with his usual tactic of getting close and making them suffer with his superior melee skills. He would have to adjust.
The moment that thought crossed his mind, Ntaj happened. Keystone suppressed the urge to facepalm. He was already debating burial or cremation, but forced himself to get his mind back to the veritable buttload of impending doom screaming at them.
So! Tactic change. Kyra had vaulted away, Sana was in good condition. Keystone planned to keep her that way, assuming that she would break out her archery skills presently. The least he could do was help clear the way. His hands, still energized from the dwarfcraft bracers on his forearms, produced kunai daggers from the bandoleer across his torso.
Keystone figured they would look quite fetching hurled into the first two skeletons that came within range. Considering his strength, he had some options. The third, action courtesy of his bracers, he held for an opportune moment. Let the games begin.
There is one skeleton remaining near the party. It is the one attacking Thomas right now. All remaining have been killed. Again. Hell, for those who were paying attention, we actually managed to get 11 in, instead of ten. Go us. Now, concerning weapons on the ground - The skeletons were not carrying anything with appreciable reach.
Everyone is good to go, so far as we are aware. <insert evil laugh here>
Initiative:
Ntaj Kyra Keystone Lerraina
~*Stop*~ - Mid Rotation Update - Tag Sigil NOW
Sana Satilla Cyneburg Thomas Calanon - You may post an end-of-round detailing that you're getting your groove back, but no direct actions this round.
Feel free to include the previous round's resolutions in your next post before declaring action, if you are so inclined. Remember: Declare actions, not results. Also, tag the next person in the lineup after your post.
Season: Late Fall/Early Winter Time Of Day: Night, middle of Weather: Cool and damp, with a clear, open sky General Ambiance: AAAAAAAHH! Huh? Location: Front lines, defending the Orc Cave
Specific Resolutions:
Cyneburg: Crunch crunch, skelly is down without an afterthought. Though now, you may need a breathmint.
Thomas: Sorry there, guy. Thomas just can't seem to hold in a sneeze, just as he began really opening himself up to the celestial energies from which he draws power. It's like a completely unintentional version of this:
The result is not fully apparent, at least not a first. Raw energy crackles and smoulders about his hair and extremities, and three of his fingernails are now aflame. Also, you're not 100% certain if this is related, but the second after the spell misfires, a sound comprised of splintering trees and grating stone can be heard off in the distance, accompanied by a light rumbling of the ground beneath everyone's feet. Ooh, mystery!
We will have to get back to that mystery in a bit, however, as the skeleton still in melee range with Thomas seems a little offended that you would turn away from it, seeing as it came all this way at it own expense just for you. It raises a wide, chopping blade, possibly a farming implement in origin, and swings dutifully at your side. The sudden irregular spurting of arcane energies around you as your spell fizzles causes it to miss its mark, at least somewhat. It opens a ragged cut along your right arm, denied the chunk of flesh it was going after. Light damage. Skelly still in range.
Satilla: Though shrieking and waving about in a manner most distressed, Satilla somehow taps into her inner Warrior Princess. Be it luck or adrenaline, gift of her Healer's Arts involuntarily trying to interact with undead essences, she manages to plant the business end of her staff squarely into the sternum of the skeleton that tried to attack her rear flank, knocking it back into a conveniently placed boulder. The bones scatter, and Satilla gets a warm and fuzzy feeling of accomplishment. (She even has time to take a bow)
Keystone: Bracers activate, sending a feeling of lightness and energy down Keystone's arms and into his torso. The big guy seemed to have forgotten his own strength as a successful unarmed strike obliterates the skeleton that put a blade into his arm. Though making a dash to Skellycow, the remaining actions for the round don't quite work out as the threat is handled (see below).
Ntaj: The skelly that attacked Calanon was the one currently attached to Ntaj's choppa. Shield bashing the poor bastich has been particularly effective in discorporating the thing. A good shake will remove it from the blade from here. The downside: It makes him off-balance, so his swing against the one flanking him is massively, wildly off. The upside: Okay, I lied. No discernible upside. Lay on, Macduff.
Sana: The attempt by Sana to ready a weapon and attack with it come with marginal success. She managed to forcibly misplace two daggers before coming up with one that she is capable of holding onto for more than a hot second. A masterfully placed attack has her inserting the blade between two vertebrae, chiseling them apart. Combined with the damage earlier, Bessie drops, sending Sane hurtling forward, Chariots of Fire slow-motion style toward the approaching, battle-sprinting Keystone. One near-miss later (damnit that would have been funny), Sana hits the ground rolling and uses the momentum to regain her footing, otherwise unharmed.
Calanon: Token Elf finds himself without much to do in his little corner of the skirmish. Satilla surprised the hell out of everyone (including herself) with a Little John worthy example of staffery, eliminating the immediate threat to herself. Unfortunately, weaving about to avoid the swings of the healer's sudden fusion with Gilgamesh Unchained, accidentally slips on a stray bit of unused firewood and falls prone into an recently downed Orc skeleton. The skull seems to fit perfectly around Calanon's face, preventing him from seeing what is to come. Getting the skull off of his face will eat up his actions in the coming round.
Kyra: So, um... yeah. Kyra and Ash are standing about, enjoying the night air, you know, simple things in life, and whatnot. No baddies in range to do anything to and/or with.
Lerriana - In a lovely crook in a tree, waiting for her moment to do ...stuff.
New Round
Crunch crunch crunch. Thusly go the masses of bony antagonists bent upon attacking the force assembled in front of the Orc Warcamp. The greenskin forces to the right and left of you begin advancing toward the source of the threat, some giving strange looks in the direction of their guests (and the one skeleton left near their fire). They step over and atop the bones of their fallen adversaries, some even laughing in anticipation of joining battle with an enemy that would send such relatively ineffective footsoldiers to assault an entire tribe of Orcs prepared for war. They seem to be letting the group at the fire mop up their own remaining opponent.
In an interesting twist, a couple of those Orcs take note of the three Humans out in front of the rest. Maybe it's just because they're along the way, but one grunts out something (they hope is) encouraging to the two women, while another gives a playful shove to Keystone's shoulder.
From inside the cave, Brezcar emerges. He looks dead set on joining the charge into the deeper woods to find and eviscerate whatever is responsible for the attack, and is quite annoyed at not being part of the skelly smash moments ago. He sprints to the front of the pack, intent on engaging the enemy as soon as possible. Perhaps they were emboldened by the relative ease with which the battle was won. Perhaps that is what made the next few moments tragic.
The echoing, impossible to pinpoint laughter returns, this time accompanied by deep, resonating consonants in a harsh, crashing language that seems to drip with palpable, authoritative power. The same two words can be picked out from among the syllables invoked:
"Palkas Asht, Palkas Asht."
A shrill scream sounds from within the deeper wood, a little closer than objectively comfortable. A few seconds after the scream, a lone skeleton can be seen running, and I mean running into sight. It bears no weapons, it advances without purpose except for covering ground in a straight line. It doesn't ready an attack, nor deviate in any way as it approaches a cluster of Orc warriors. The warriors brace for an attack, confident that a single skeleton against combat veterans will be pathetically scrubbed from the face of the earth.
And then it explodes.
Not the massive, incendiary type that leaves scorch marks and a need to Stop, Drop, and Roll, either. This is a sickening cracking sound, a force of concussion radiating outward from the center of the undead creature's very marrow, instantaneously shattering the once-living bone and driving the shards into anything and everything inside of its radius.
The Orcs in the cluster first hit by this suicide-style attack are knocked off of their feet. Two aren't moving at all, the remaining two are rolling on the ground, clutching themselves anywhere not covered by thick armor and trying desperately to pull pieces of foreign bone from their flesh.
This is by no means finished. The chant from the unknown voice resumes, laughing sporadically in between repeated uses of its dark speech. Repeated screams are heard, so many of them, the birth cries of temporary abominations set on the sole purpose of tearing the living apart through their own destruction.
More skeletons approach. Unlike the thirty from before, this additional number moves quickly, and without discernible tactic. As best you can tell, about ten are making a beeline for the Mostly Human party, still toward the rear of the group of widespread Orcs. (That'd be you guys)
"Quite." agreed Harper, fully backing the eccentric Doctor's assessment of the situation. He looked upon it with a mixture of disgust and honest wonder, contemplating the physics of the total experience from Knochengeiger's point of view. He had only spoken to the man once, but it was more than enough of a character reveal for him to easily remain objective at the misshapen sack of flesh wobbling slightly before them, a hollowed-out corpse stripped of dignity and identifiable gender. If there was any manner of silver lining to the horrorshow in front of the two of them, it was that the intense vacuum did the overwhelming majority of the cleanup for them. Despite the disemboweled dead guy in the room, it was a well polished and tidy lavatory.
"We need to get images of this." suggested Harper, the slightest hint of disbelief creeping into his voice. "For the archives." he hastily added, as if to explain that he wasn't really a creepy bastard that took delight in the horrifying and unusual expiration of others. The past few years had wrought changes in the man, true, but he wouldn't exactly describe himself as creepy, so much as hardened.
This moment in his life would likely be seared into his forebrain, to be stored immaculately for voluntary retrieval or (very likely) involuntary recall at the most inopportune times. Having visual confirmation would come in very handy if he was ever compelled to describe it to another. He was not a poet, nor a great linguistical artist. And this was easily made the Top Five list of the most gruesome deaths to which Harper had been made personally aware, knocking down that incident involving a prisoner dismembered by mining equipment (his blood freezing in short seconds, preventing immediate death) to number six.
When it became apparent that the Yeoman he requested was not rapidly forthcoming, Harper looked back to Jahosafat. "I suppose we should get to it, then. Let's get full images of the scene and transport the remains. You're the only remaining Medic, sir. Where would you prefer him?" In truth, the good Lieutenant wouldn't have minded if the request was to fully disarticulate the body and shove it completely into waste disposal. But he probably had a family, or at least people who wanted to spit on his corpse before respectful interment someplace warm and green.
So, this was to be his first big "proving yourself" moment, if that guy in charge ever came back by to give him a hopeful thumbs-up, or a regretful thumbs-down. Naturally, there would have to be more mundane tasks to earn his keep, but stringing together a Bachelor Party in the middle of the apocalypse would be like the world's awesomest scavenger hunt. Of course, instead of finding several everyday items, The Great Bazhooli would have a list of nigh impossible tasks to perform, such as locating a tuxedo, suitable alcohol, yummy tidbits of things (leeway there would be required), music possibly, and how the hell do you scavenge a stripper?
Oh yes. This would be a great project to work on. Now, all The Great Bazhooli had to do was fully figure out what the Groom-To-Be was saying. His accent had a hair of local charm, not unlike his own. "Walkah..? Ah, the Returned. Dead people on legs. No no, ve not get. Maybe there is someone here, vould not mind? Lot of pretty girls, Newnan. Saw blonde, tall. Vears metal? Vould need thing for trade, I think. Ah, vill come to me. Meantime, I varm up! Have not juggled pins in vhile."
The cheerful performer started out slow, a simple three. Just to warm up. Just to get a feel for them. After a little bit, he called out, "Hey! Someone toss me four and five, yes?"
Bridgette Vinters
Location: Following Astrid
It felt good to get Cadence out in the open, riding fast and free in the soft light of the day. Granted, the last time around, she wasn't afflicted with the sound of motorcycles roaring down the highway, nor the sight of them in front of her. She would have preferred to lead the way herself. Seeing as Bridgette had no idea where they were going, aside from west at any rate, she supposed that she would abide the fuel exhaust and incessant motorized farting sound that was unavoidable when dealing with those machines.
Not that Bridgette really had anything against bikes. Hell, they looked kind of fun. Not to mention that she had fond memories of the Jousting team at one of her old blacksmithing gigs getting piss drunk and running the lists on Harleys. Some guy she was seeing (if you can really call the nature of their relationship "seeing", or even "relationship", for that matter) wound up breaking an arm, not to mention denting up a fair portion of her more artistic armorcraft in the process. You see, a horse has the sense to try to keep its balance on its own. A motorcycle does not. Maybe if they had used Big Wheels instead of actual bikes, Bridgette's armor wouldn't have gotten dinged up, and the poor bastard wouldn't have been urinated upon as he slept later that evening. Perhaps if they had used trikes...
But those thoughts were immaterial to their present situation, amusing as they might be. Astrid and herself were surrounded by strangers who seemed polite enough, despite occasionally staring at her. Maybe it was her haircut. She tended to braid, and shaved the sides. Not exactly usual, though the concept of usual could be argued at length, anymore. Of course, it just might be the fact that she and Astrid looked like they stepped out of a Made For TV Movie about the life of Lief Eriksson, running around in the worst global disaster ever to befall mankind since that Bieber kid recorded "Baby Baby Baby Ooh".
Bridgette's irritation ebbed for the most part, replaced by caution as Astrid called the low hanging peoplefruit to her attention. She didn't recall hearing anything about Newnan putting hunting traps out in the surrounding woods, and sure as hell didn't recall any groups tasked with checking or collecting from them. Leaving traps out unattended for any length of time was foolish these days; the Biters would make short work of anything left out there for long. If this was an honest attempt for someone to gather food for themselves, they were foolish, desperate, or very nearby. Or maybe this Eden group fucking with them. Something didn't seem right with this scenario. The warrior woman found herself readying for a fight; helm and shield, spear and sawed-off in their usual, pre-bloodshed hands.
Her caution called for a touch of privacy, indicated by a change of language. Her loyalty was with her battle-sister, so much more than the people with whom they traveled. "Felle for alle, eller bare for oss, Astrid?"1 But there was a flaw in that logic. Astrid had volunteered to return with them, and Bridgette had decided to follow at the last second. "Jeg liker det ikke. La oss gjøre dette raskt og kom deg ut herfra.2
Bridgette remained on her horse, slowly moving toward the swinging form. She eyed the situation as carefully as possible, noting the trees and other plant life deeper in. Not too close and not too far, she decided to embrace the twin virtues of Diplomacy and Tact. Speaking to the human pinata, she opened with, "Is this some yoga bullshit, or do you need help? You need to answer quick."
1 = A trap for anyone, or just for us, Astrid?. 2 = I don't like it. Let's do this fast and get the fuck outta here.
Ash Holloway
Location: Main Gate -> Building 1, Infirmary
"Right this way, sir." monotoned Ash, leading Beni and armed escort back up the main thoroughfare, and into the Inner Wall. From there, it was very almost a straight shot to the Main Building, wherein resided the heart of Newnan, including the Infirmary and their very own Doc Froggy.
But before they got there, Ash felt compelled to respond to Beni's observations of their resident Medic and Metalworker. Metalworker, because "Pain In The Ass" wasn't an official job title in the Newnan Community Charter. "Different and interesting. That is a very diplomatic way of putting it, Mr... Um, Beni." It was in that time that Ash realized he hadn't gotten a full name back from this man. If this was merely a temporary meeting, perhaps official last names weren't quite as important as they would be otherwise. Brave new world, and whatnot. Stumbling over it might very well be the opportunity for the man to extend the courtesy of his full name, but it was not imperative. Right now, they could help each other, and that seemed like enough. Any new meeting that didn't turn into bloodshed, point of fact, seemed like enough. Putting the thought aside, he continued his thought. "They walk a different path. Probably the nicest way to put it. But they are very good at what they do, make no mistake. I honestly don't think the Apocalypse made them any stronger; it just gave them a bigger role to fill."
Ash noticed the familiar face of James Grady exiting the Courthouse, pushing a wheelchair in front of himself. Closer examination showed a green, college ruled notebook in the seat, sitting top a second. As he was on official business, Ash kept conversation light. "Mr. Grady." he extended as a basic greeting. "That for Zoie?"
"Oh yessir, Cap'n. Yes it is. Ceptin' them notebooks, Boss. I'm wanting to do what you done, writin' stuff down?" While not a question, James' intonation was that of one. The intent was to inquire as to whether he understood the scope of his statement. Ash certainly did.
Not too horribly long go, after much death in the community of Newnan, including his very much loved Alicia and potential Father-In-Law, Caesar, not to mention his Commanding Officer, Ashton began to question mortality very seriously. To ensure a smoother transition if his time came soon, he wrote down the entirety of his knowledge about distilling various products and supporting knowledges (as it could be argued that Newnan ran on alcohol), and his plans for the various civil engineering projects that were completed, underway, planned, or merely brainstormed for the future of the people under his care and command. The last thing was a Will. In the very dark place Ash had found himself, death almost seemed like a sweet release. But he still wanted to make sure his people would be okay. James didn't want to bring it up directly.
Darker thoughts aside, it wasn't a bad idea. Pragmatic, even. Building a library of useful skills, written down and learnable by any interested in reading it, was one of the first really good steps in securing their future. James was an Agriculturalist, among other things. He started their crop and livestock projects. His specific knowledge on the present and future food needs of Newnan was invaluable. Not to mention the tasty goodness he put together every so often, as the situation allowed for it. If he had a heart attack from too much of his homemade bacon, someone would have to be there to continue the work. Right then, no one else was remotely as qualified in their group.
"Good idea. Keep looking after our girl, as long as she lets you."
"Aight, Cap'n. Best believe I'm on that." Not being a military man, James didn't salute as many might have in Newnan, instead giving a warm smile to the man, and a quick nod at their guest, Beni, before going on his merry way.
Within the next minute or so, Ash, Beni, and their escort found their way into the Infirmary proper. Introductions were in order. "Beni, this is our Medical Lead, Dr. Victor Bonheur. Doc, this is Beni, the man you have been hearing about on your radio. He has a recent amputee inbound with Astrid, maybe more soon that requires an experienced hand. Meantime, there is a little horse trading to be done. He's got meds we might find useful. Epinephrine, Captopril..." On that last medication, Ashton locked eyes with their Doctor. He squinted ever so slightly, giving Froggy the smallest of nods. Not that he would have known what the meds did unless it was explained to him by Astrid, but now that he did know, he sure as hell wanted Froggy to acquire it for himself. Hopefully, the serious but minimalist expression (outside of Beni's direct field of vision) would be noted and accounted for in their discussion.
[hider=Lady Absinthia's GM Awards]
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[*] Save Another from LLA Card
[*] Kill Any NPC in LAU Card
[*] Plot Insight Card
[*] Single Day Extension Card
[*] Single Day Extension Card
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[hider=Death Scenes]
[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3622266]Dexter's Death (or Hammertime!)[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3837944]The UnBEARable Case of Lawrence Long[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4020657]Malfunctioning Space Toilet[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4557122]Rube Goldberg Decapitation[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4569229]Shitter's Full[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4602115]Dirigible (warning, SAD)[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4538295]After "The Last Barbecue"[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4723699]Detoxing Pilot[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4745239]Girls Stick Together[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4749807]Oops[/url]
[/hider]
[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3214659]"Character Flaw"[/url]
[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/2968914]Keystone's Daydream[/url]
[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3040161]Checking for Mental Intrusion[/url]
[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3594115]The Power Of Pain Compels You[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4670484]The Greater Good[/url]
[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5134610]Burial & Origin of James Mandingo Grady[/url]
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<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Lady Absinthia's GM Awards">Lady Absinthia's GM Awards [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><ul class="bb-list" style="white-space: normal;"><li></li><li>Save Another from LLA Card</li><li>Kill Any NPC in LAU Card</li><li>Plot Insight Card</li><li>Single Day Extension Card</li><li>Single Day Extension Card</li><li></li></ul></div></div><br><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Death Scenes">Death Scenes [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><a href="http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3622266">Dexter's Death (or Hammertime!)</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3837944">The UnBEARable Case of Lawrence Long</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4020657">Malfunctioning Space Toilet</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4557122">Rube Goldberg Decapitation</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4569229">Shitter's Full</a><br><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4602115">Dirigible (warning, SAD)</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4538295">After "The Last Barbecue"</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4723699">Detoxing Pilot</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4745239">Girls Stick Together</a><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4749807">Oops</a></div></div><br><br><a href="http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3214659">"Character Flaw"</a><br><br><a href="http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/2968914">Keystone's Daydream</a><br><br><a href="http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3040161">Checking for Mental Intrusion</a> <br><br><a href="http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3594115">The Power Of Pain Compels You</a><br><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4670484">The Greater Good</a><br><br><a href="https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/5134610">Burial & Origin of James Mandingo Grady</a><br><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Signature Images">Signature Images [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://media.giphy.com/media/xT0GqpswuzhOqHP6gM/giphy-downsized-large.gif" /></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://media.giphy.com/media/iMnyx7HWjZgPu/giphy.gif" /></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/wUTjLTf.gif" /></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-K04tQV9pRE8/UCFQiE8aoVI/AAAAAAAATJk/hIK7mzvvYpk/s430/99.gif" /></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><img src="http://i.imgur.com/rigeWJc.gif" /></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://uproxx.files.wordpress.com/2015/05/throughthedoor.gif?w=650" /></div></div></div><br><br><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://image.ibb.co/jVrOhp/Scythefalling.gif" /></div></div>
Zman
Shadow Dragon
Not a Sayan
Simply Not Real
Fetzen
Lewascan2
Arty Fox
Lady Absinthia
Archangel89
