Sigil

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

Ah, the young carpenter from Nazareth; I knew him well. Lad had potential. He died badly.

L. Gaunt

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

@The Grey Dust

And you're up, I believe.

🦄 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: Bloody Smudge In The Air

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This was not something Keystone had a whole lot of experience doing, fighting the non-to-semi-corporeal. Generally, he tended to rely on the works of people of piety to handle those types of horrors, even as they had relied on him to pummel their more physical threats back into the dirt from whence they came. But he did have some experience, and it was better than most. Well, better than most who were alive still, anyway. It was an important distinction. It was also one of the reasons that Keystone trained with a Shou master who was able to barehand strike "the unnatural, the aberrant, and the enchanted" that more mundane methods could not. It was a tricky process, getting a man like him to reach the level of internal discipline and fluidity of thought necessary to incorporate his personal energies into a physical strike. But when that particular floodgate was opened, it could not be undone. No matter how much of a stubborn prick he proved himself, afterwards.

And he did.

But just now, Keystone was thankful to have unlocked that ability within himself. It gave him a chance to be able to do monumentally stupid things like what he was attempting presently. He rotated his wrist in a breakaway parry, hopeful that he could counter the hold and dig his own fingers into the there but not there form of the Mist. If he got purchase, Keystone intended to get another handful and begin walking backwards, pulling the creature away from Sana.

Then again, if he could not, hitting it as hard as he possibly could would have to suffice. It usually did.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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The Great Bazhooli

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Location: Building 7 (Rec Center) -> Gilbert Street, in front of Building 1

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The Great Bazhooli heard exactly what everyone else did. His reaction was, to begin with, hesitation. What could he do? I mean, he was getting along great with the few people he spoke to. Laughs, even. The stone face guard they posted on him didn't seem like so bad of a guy, either, except that he was holding the man's stuff hostage until the head man gave him an interview. And that was another thing. This poor guy has to follow him around, hold his stuff (which must be getting super heavy by now), and wait to shoot him dead if he happens to act in an aggressive manner. Now that the guy he's been calling "Captain" is going away, it promised to be soo much longer.

He couldn't help, he reasoned, if he wasn't part of the community. And he wouldn't be part of the community until this guy gives his say-so. He couldn't do that if he was gone, and he sure as hell couldn't do that if he was dead. But Bazhooli still hesitated. Jack had already left the building. He couldn't wait anymore.

"Tatiana, if I stay, I am disgraced. I vant this to be home. Cannot juggle bowling pins vhile others are in trouble. I follow Jack. Vill vatch out for him. Am his Best Man, yes?"

The Great Bazhooli stood up to his full height and assumed an air of performance-like arrogance. He spun on his heels and began to stride confidently toward the door. Without stopping, he snapped his fingers above his head and spoke in haughty tones to the guard assigned him. "Come, styuard. We go to the Big Man."

The instructions over the radio clearly said to meet him in front of the Courthouse in five. And so he was. On the way there, he had worked out a speech, full of impassioned words and dramatic arm gestures, in grand Russian tradition of sentimentality and promises of grandeur. He was stopped dead in his tracks by Ash.

"Interview. Didn't forget." he snapped at the odd Cossack. Ashton looked over to the guard assigned him, still dutifully doing his job. "You want your interview?" he asked, grabbing the great, bear fur bundle from the guard. He shoved it into The Great Bazhooli's chest. The second that the kinda Russian's hands came up, he let go. "Then come with me. Your interview's on the road."

Well, that was easy. And terrifying.

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Black James(!)

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Location: Building C (His House) -> Building 6, Armory

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"Yes'm, Miss Zoie. Be right there." answered James, changing his direction at a run. Lord, how he hated to run. Running and speaking into a radio - just not his thing. It is why, when Ash addressed him, it came with moderate annoyance. "While you're there, James, grab us a couple sacks of molotovs. If the Dead have them, I want to light 'em up. If the living have them... I want to light 'em up."

"Yessir, Cap'n Ash." he breathed heavily. Run run run, that's what he seemed to do anymore. Unless it was toward food or away from Walkers, James really didn't have that much use for it. The exception, of course, being when the guy in charge needs something. Obviously. Otherwise, he wouldn't be running.

His demeanor was positive, if a bit serious, as he entered the Armory. The first thing he did was reacquire his Barret Heavy Sniper System. The second was turn to Zoie. "Aight mama, lay 'em on me."

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Ash Holloway

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Location: Gilbert Street, in front of Building 1

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The volunteers had begun to arrive. Ash was pleased when he saw the immediate turnout of long-standing members of the community, coming to support relative newcomers. What surprised him, if just a little, were the extremely recent ones coming to aid people that they hadn't known but for a couple of hours, if even that. Jack Hudson was the first. When he offered his services, Ash quietly nodded.

"Head to the Armory. Get your things. Equip yourself as best Tom will allow otherwise."

Bazhooli came next. He returned the odd man's belongings, and likewise sent him to the Armory. He would trust the newer people or he wouldn't, either or both. If these people, Jack and Bazhooli, wished to assist in the recovery, then more power to them. From a more tactical standpoint, if he reduces their forces within the wall to accomplish this, he would rather the newer, less established ones come with him - if they were of unstable morale or not trustworthy, the city itself would be safer. Likewise, he would see firsthand the mettle of these people, how well they worked with others, and their competency. If Ash returned at all, it would be with a greater understanding of these new people. Well, if they returned at all.

"Any more volunteers, radio in. I will need one or two on light vehicle to act as advance scout."

Ash looked across the street to his crowning achievement of engineering, sitting in the parking lot in front of the Auto Service building. Yeah, it was time to bring her back into active duty.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Lady Amalthea

Ah. I must have misread something somewhere along the way. That being the case, I am formally requesting Plot Armor for Ashton Holloway, paid for by the deaths of Caesar Gonzalez and Bridgette Vinters.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

So, umm... if anyone was paying attention to the small details of the last few pages of the IC, you may have noticed this, but...

The Curse of Ash has struck again!

I submit to you, our two deaths so far on this little side venture, Bridgette Vinters and Astrid Hansen. Bridgette has been meeting with Ash privately, as she may have mentioned, for reasons their own. (kudos if anyone can remember why) and their opinion of each other had changed significantly. Meanwhile, Astrid has been openly flirting with the guy, the last time being the last second before she left Newnan. Literally, the last thing she said to the man was in flirtation.

Then Bridgette happened. Albeit in sarcasm, she loudly inferred making a Viking Sandwich with the man, thusly cementing her fate as the first to go.

The Curse is real, ladies and gents. For you newer people, make sure to ask the TWD3Y veterans what happened. Correction, what is still happening. Now that he has Plot Armor, is this going to get better, or worse?

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: Queensguard Private Airfield, Alicia's Secret Hideout

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Awe took Caesar for about a second, maybe less. He had definitely not expected this. Hell, he had expected to die in a hail of gunfire, he and Cecily both just then. This was a significantly more welcome outcome. But now that he was surrounded by a cache of goodies set aside by his girls and in what he hoped was a secure location, the more practical and somewhat angry side of him bubbled back up to the fore. Cecily was still injured. The standard medical packs down here would be of great assistance, but if that bullet was still in there it would have to be removed before more restorative action could take place.

"Yeah. I have been shot before. I can take it out, but it will get real messy and real painful. It's better to wait for a doctor. We should have a premeasured local in our standard packs. Just press down and hit the plunger."

Caesar took a long look around him, at the underground bunker that Alicia and Lorna set up. The weapons stashes, electronics, the secret frigging entrance... This was a little too "Secret Agent" for his tastes, but today it saved his ass. Not going to complain. He re-upped his ammunition with standby ACP rounds and another magazine, grabbed a spare switchblade (it was M'hija's favorite) as well as a couple more sharp things. He stopped briefly, looking at one of a few long blades on a rack. Not his favorite chopping implement, but the machetes to which he was most accustomed were absent from this cache of ouch-making devices. A katana was a bold fashion statement for him. He selected one with a sling he could carry on his back.

"Niña, if you need a weapon or something, just grab it. We're not here long. Just getting answers and finding a way back to my trike."

The monitor in the wall flared to life, with the image of Alicia speaking directly to him, as if she knew that eventually he would find this place. It was a tender moment for Caesar, as if his daughter were speaking to him one final time. But he could not allow himself to get lost in her face and her voice just then. He needed answers. Caesar permitted himself one indulgence, however. "M'hija, I don't remember approving funding for this." He then pressed Play.

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J. Keystone

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Location: Queensguard R&D Industrial Complex: Lobby

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The doors to the lobby parted, opened by two security personnel waiting with Acting Director Keystone. As they closed behind their distinguished visitors, the large security director motioned for both of them to take positions at the rear flank of their guests. Another series of gestures had the guards further in maintaining eyes on the group gathering in the lobby. "Make certain we got cameras on everyone, right?" he spoke into his comm, addressing the personnel back at the Hub.

Keystone himself took up a position to the side of the gathering, near to Elisabeth Queensguard - not quite mirroring the lackey carrying the briefcase. He wanted to make sure that there was a bit of professional separation between them. He didnt want to insinuate himself into her professional dealings, yet needed to be nearby if called upon for protection or violence. Plus, it allowed for a more objective view of the scene.

There was some concern that Caesar handn't gotten in touch with him for a while. He had accurately predicted the identity of their mystery guest, then was strangely silent. Nothing that could be worried about then, anyway. Not until their guest and client both were secure and satisfied, with emphasis on client. Then maybe he could chance a text message in a little bit, but right now, two very powerful women and two security teams with differing priorities were meeting in the lobby of an R&D complex lobby.

After taking position he nodded respectfully over to Ms. Queensguard, politely offering the intonation of "Ma'am."

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

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William Harper

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Location: Retribution, Bridge

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Zero core shielding. Older model ship. Flying directly into atmo without so much as a hailing ping. Harper had read about this in reports, heard stories from prisoners and other pilots. He checked the instrumentation again, just to make sure. Reavers. It could be noting else.

The misplaced pilot had seen several recordings of the aftermath, the victims, of these creatures that he did not believe were people any longer. And of course, when the vid from the Miranda colonies exploded across the Cortex, he saw, just like everyone else. It left an impact. Somewhere underneath the surface of Harper's solid exterior, a cold hand closed into a fist around his viscera. These were things that were once human, that now existed purely to deny anything that moved a decent end.

Yes, the possibility of Death By Sodomy followed by being the guest of honor at an impromptu brunch of People Sashimi was not his idea of a good time. So much so, in fact, that it stirred up a heretofore flutter of nerves that usually only took him when he thought about that fucking rock, floating in the Halo and away from human reckoning, that he was forced to labor and subsist upon for the last three years. Maybe the Halo took away a portion of his nerve. True enough, he wasn't quite the same man he was, years ago. More prone to violence, certainly. And apparently, significantly more jumpy about certain things.

Of course, their Gunner wasn't helping. He was anxious, obviously. So was Harper. "We have our orders from the Captain, Sergeant Williams. We escort the Firefly vessel offworld, and engage if necessary. If they're after us and not some quiet settlement to eat, they'll attack with harpoons first. We will have range. Don't worry though - If they attack, I'll try to make them miss."

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Retribution, Bridge

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The foppish gentleman carrying the magnum bore auto-locking man portable sniper cannon (otherwise known as Foy with his Callahan) bobbed up and down on the balls of his feet, as if he were readying himself for a rousing bout of fisticuffs. He wasn't sure exactly why, but in this moment a minor fit of excitement overcame him.

Hostile crew on the ground, doing Who Knows What, additionally a hostage situation brewing. And all the while, it appeared that they were indeed upon a planet selected for a good Reaving, just as his lifelong friend and fellow Farradayan, Jahosafat Moreau, had predicted. "Ah, but this is the most delightful calamity I have witnessed in quite a stretch of time, Dr. Moreau. I daresay, you possess a singular aptitude for locating the absolute best of social functions, and securing me an invitation, sir."

Foy took a deep bow, extending his fine felt bowler in his left hand in front of him. "Why, I feel like a child who has just tasted sweet and salty carnival fare, waiting in line for the Superfluous Plum Blossom Tilt-a-Whirl for the very first time. I've not tangled with angry Reavers and scorned women on a two-front conflict before today. I am curious as to which is the more dangerous of our adversaries. I doff my cap to you, Doctor."

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

@Lady Amalthea @Sigil @Dragoknighte @rivaan @POOHEAD189 @Lucius Cypher @IcePezz @The Grey Dust

Yeah, forgot to tag. Again. New round, please read the above for initiative.

🦄 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: Still desperate, but hopeful
Location: Front lines, defending the Orc Cave

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Specific Resolutions:

Satilla, Sana, and Cyneburg: Or as the public will come to know them in the future, the Tumbling Trio. After word gets around about this, the three of them will receive a slew of offers from various Carnies and Circuses, wanting to see a dramatic reproduction. But to business! Satilla is able to grab Sana's right arm and her healing spell sinks into her flesh with a warm, fuzzy feeling. This is about the time that Sana breaks away from the group, lain out flat with only a trickle of the spell working its way in. She isn't getting any colder now, but she isn't getting any warmer, either. (Half effectiveness) Satilla breaks away from Cyneburg and comes to a stop to the left of the cave, and Cyneburg, now unencumbered by the other two women, pitches headlong into the cave proper. No damage on either, but there will be a brief adjustment period while you figure out which way is up.

Calanon: Both arrows find their mark! The first one sinks into the creature, in a manner of speaking. It slows considerably before passing out of the other side of the swirling, red mist, causing noticeable disruption. The arrow drops to the ground a few feet away. The second one passes right through, unabated, as if it weren't there at all.

Ntaj: You manage to scramble back over the lower, damaged section of the otherwise huge wall of ice separating your tent from the fight, and get a glancing swing in on the Mist. It makes connection as if it were fully solid. The Mist notices this as well.

Kyra: Ever the pinnacle of multiple action, she manages to deftly deposit the arrows in the tree, make her jump, tuck, and roll, slides over to the gigantic wall of ice separating the fight from everything else, leap bodily over it, and get a potion over to Keystone, who is in process of struggling to stand. Unfortunately, due to the flips and kicks and rolls, half of that potion is elsewhere.

Keystone: The throw is successful. Which makes sense, considering it's not very far away and he knows how to hurl a bar of pointy steel. The poor footing and his present condition (until that potion kicks in) makes it very nearly a miss, but it sunk deep and prompted a howl from the creature. The very shiny and sharp knife sinks slowly down, exiting the bottom of the creature like it was descending through heavy syrup before clattering on the ground below.

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New Round

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The Crimson Mist has taken damage, real damage in this exchange. Now that it has fed, it seems to be slower and squishier. A few of the group have been able to affect the monster in real ways, but it see,s to have centered it's attention on the first guy that caused it damage. That's right, the big, foul-mouthed urbanite remains the entree of choice.

It lashes out at the man with two separate tentacle attacks. Even in his less-than-ideal state, Keystone is able to duck under a wild swipe and outright block a straight attack. It makes connection to the side of his bracer with a wet splatting sound. Still making connection to the dwarven metal encircling Keystone's forearm, it manifests a bloody tentacle and begins stretching it over towards the prone form of its original target - Sana.

Anticipation of a quick meal causes the swirling bits of the Crimson Mist to pick up in speed and strength, still energized by the broad Human's blood. It's not done yet, not by a fair sight.