Sigil

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway

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Location: Outside Newnan, Southern Gate -> Parking Lot of Building 4 (nearest Gilbert St across from Building 1)

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A lady ought to be free to die on her own terms, especially in this horrifying mockery of the world. Death was imminent for Astrid. In Ash's mind, she could do whatever the hell she wanted to from that point forward. If it was not her way to be surrounded by her people (or at least those that claimed her as their own), then so be it. If he had any regret with the situation (aside from his people getting killed, that is), it was that he could not provide for Astrid the clean, warrior's death that she had given her sister, Bridgette. She had her own plan, and he had to respect it.

Before entering Newnan, Ash opened the door to the Hordebuster and stepped out onto the dusty ground below. For the first time since accepting an order from Lieutenant Colonel Leann McCormick, the former Commanding Officer of the Newnan Safe Zone, snapped to attention and raised his arm in proud salute. Those women were every bit the soldier he was; the distinctions of training and specific disciplines notwithstanding. They were probably better fit to survive in this new world than himself. The irony of that thought was not lost on Ash, either. He held his position for as long as he dared, his duty to the survivors being the priority. It was time to come home.

Slowly at first, Ash pulled his massive truck into Newnan. They had a job to do. Within the Inner Wall, across from the Courthouse, Ash parked his 'Buster and switched into "incident mode" as people gathered to do what was needed. "Alright! Priority goes to the living. Smooth and easy, I need two gurneys from Medical brought around. Expect shock, expect that they cannot assist themselves much. Keep it gentle."

He looked to a few others assembled, continuing, "Casualties. Far more than are acceptable." As if any were, especially for mercy work such as they were attempting. "Prepare the deceased for interment. Lay them out, recover anything of use from them. Weapons, armor, tools, meds, whatever. Catalogue everything and report. If they haven't already taken a blade to the brain, make that happen."

Ashton turned his attention to his radio. "We're back. All stations, report in order of building assignment. Courthouse first, Mess, etc." His thumb had fallen away from the button on the walkie, indeed the apparatus was descending from his head when he spoke again, to no one really. His face remained the same stony vision as it had been for the past hour, more or less, but his voice felt vacant.

"We lost our girls."

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Black James(!)

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Location: Building 2, Mess Hall -> The Hordebuster, Building 4 Parking Lot

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James had come to help out, as everyone else had who was respectful of Ashton's orders. What he saw was sadly familiar. Additionally, he saw that state that Ash was in, recognizing it from previous incidents. He was holding it together in a way that was both admirable and frightening, if you knew the man. If you didn't, it looked like the carnage didn't touch him. James was tempted to offer his services and take over the situation, let Ash get some rest and quiet, but he knew better. The man needed a project for his brain to push through logically, no matter how gruesome or stressful it might be.

At least he could give a basic report. "Hey, Boss. We gots Guy up top on a rifle. Fire's stopped, but there're heaps of shit 'cause of it. You need talk with Froggy. Nothin' we can do right now 'bout it, though, don't think. Oh! Gotta guest, set up in the Mess Hall. She seems aight, be we got a gun on her, same old, same old..."

James let his words trail off. There was a bit of work to be done before anyone could rest tonight. "Tellya what, Bossman... Everything gets offloaded, imma take a bucket to your truck, k? We can have a sit-down like last time. Talk stuff over."

The Captain didn't speak, merely giving the overall clad man the barest of nods.

"Okay! Let's get to it, then." There was indeed a lot to do.

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

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Resolution

Season: Late Fall/Early Winter
Time Of Day: Night, middle of.
Weather: Cool and damp, with a clear, open sky
General Ambiance: Too quiet, outside of the pressing medical emergency
Location: Between the Orc Cave and the Ice Wall

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Sana's unconscious form began to spasm and choke as the thick liquid of Thomas's potion made its way down her throat. The resistance given was weak, far weaker than her taught and wiry muscles would have ordinarily put forth. This was obviously the reflexive firing of nerves and not a true effort to save herself from syrupy drowning. Now then, some of that potion got where it was supposed to go. The application of the energizing liquid will take effect in less than a minute, but is weakened to a degree that she is only conscious, not upright. Sana will require rest, unless acted upon by another source of assistance. Now the question is: Does she choke to death in the meantime?

Satilla succeeds in getting over to Sana, mostly because Keystone is eager for some measure of non-murderous help to be provided to his fallen friend. When Satilla mentions the phrase "heal her", he deliberately(?) falls backward and rolls over twice, clearing a path asap. He glares over to Thomas as he rises, potentially contemplating the effects of open pit barbecuing on a young, male spellcaster if the look on his face is any indication, but refrains from taking any action. His gaze returns to Satilla and Sana.

It's about this time that Lerraina and Ntaj re-scale the lower section of the still present Wall O' Ice. (yup, still there, guys) and rejoin the group. Everyone else is crowded around Sana's medical emergency, except for Cyneburg, standing apart from them with her axe-cane and Keystone's big shiny knife, and Calanon, busy watering his elk.

I now return you to your regularly scheduled drama. AAAAND ...Go.

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

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

And we are back to non-combat, standard posting requirements. Please react accordingly based upon the situation presented. Lady A has the conn once again, may she be merciful to us all.

Congratulations! No one had joined the ranks of the living dead. Yet. But bear in mind the lessons of the fight: Powerful acts of Necromancy will not necessarily show itself with standard, easily understood enemies. I have an entire amusement park chock full of interesting, once living baddies for you to play with. Or maybe you'll get swarmed with the old classics. They're challenge enough for most people.

For now, if you have any questions or think I missed something important, please let me know here and I will be happy to resolve it for you.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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_{"Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it."}

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Location: St. Etheldreda's - Chapel

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There was hesitation on the part of the green-coated guardsmen, possibly confusion on their part. This was a young lady in a formal cassock carrying a Swiss halberd, and a formidable looking hand cannon, introducing herself with earned title. It didn't seem proper. If she were speaking falsely and caught by the officials of the Ely Palace, she could look forward to highly unpleasant actions taken upon her as a result. They might have even gleaned a sense of impending justice when Bishop Mansfield turned the corner to view the scene unfolding.

The appearance of the Bishop was heartening to Mary. She had hoped that he was done handling the situation that was brought to their doors by herself and the Reverend Clerc, and was on his way to give her leave to pursue her duties. He could surmise the situation immediately; Mary looked to want inside the church, the guards were under orders to prevent anyone from doing so. He raised a hand and quelled the situation before it could come to hard words or harder blows.

"Sister Mary is an anointed Knight of God, elevated by Pope Pius VII and appointed to this church by the Grand Cross of her Order. She is a valued ally to St. Etheldreda's, and is obligated to assist in the defense of all who are granted refuge here. Mary is of no threat to you, nor your charge."

Bishop Mansfield turned just a few degrees to indicate that he was addressing Mary, then continued. "You may enter, Mary. Remember your manners, we have an important guest." He motioned toward the interior doors, behind the guards.

"Certainly, Your Excellency. If I may be permitted, Excellency, has the other situation been resolved?"

"In a moment, Sister Mary. For now, attend to your duty in the Chapel."

The truth was that Mary didn't have need to be in the Chapel, nor the undercroft at that point in time. She merely wished to find out more about their visitors and continue with her day. If she didn't leave for Almack's before too long, she would have to send word declaring her absence. It also might be a slight upon the honor of her Order, unless she could declare a more pressing reason than providing security against the Soulless at a high-profile social gathering of Gentry and Peers, for which she was requested personally. However, as the Bishop had vouched for her and the Russian detail grudgingly stepped aside, she felt compelled to enter. It wasn't quite deception, but this was likely something else she would have to confess to Bishop Mansfield later. (Wait, he was involved... does she need to confess? Eh, probably.)

Mary quietly curtsied to the guards and slipped through the doors. As soon as she was in, the pair of green clad soldiers followed her. A voucher from the Bishop notwithstanding, they apparently believed there was a need to keep an eye on her.

The chapel was noticeably darker than the grounds outside, though the ever present candles common to Catholic ceremony assisted with this, giving the illumination a soft, orange note. In front of the altar knelt a woman, dressed in very opulent attire. Expensive, ornate clothing, obviously reserved for not only the richest, but most highly socially placed of persons. She was seemingly deep in prayer, appearing not to notice Mary's entrance into the Chapel proper behind her.

After a quiet moment, she rose. Slowly, gracefully, almost as a spirit rising from the earth, completely unencumbered by the complexities of her layered and long costuming. For another moment, she stood motionless. Then she turned, revealing an impossibly slender lady with pale skin, ice blue eyes, dusty lips, and squared jaw - the very image of Russian Aristocracy. This was doubtlessly a Lady of importance, and from the Imperial Russian Court, though her exact identity was a mystery to Mary. She did have the forethought to assense the woman under the scrutiny of Tanter, just to follow up on her similar treatment of the guards a minute ago.

It was difficult to curtsy correctly to a noblewoman while carrying a polearm. The lengthy of it made placing one's hands in the proper place cumbersome. This was perhaps why men preferred to bow. Mary supposed she should start doing that, be it a very unfeminine practice. But then again, so was openly wearing a howdah pistol and carrying a halberd. Either way, she left the one hand on her weapon, using it as subtle balance as she performed the best one-handed curtsy possible. "My Lady," she began in English, "I apologize if I have interrupted your supplications to our Lord. I am Mary Hale, resident Dame here at the Ely Palace." She paused briefly to see if she needed to attempt dialogue in a different language. The nobility was fond of teaching several languages to highly placed, but there was no guarantee that English was in the visitor's skill set. Provided they could communicate effectively, Mary continued.

"I ordinarily come through here to practice in the dark of the undercroft; it keeps my ability to blindfight honed. But I was wondering if you would mind so much if I joined you in prayer, my Lady."

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: Morgue

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"No, Doctor. No big rats." Caesar looked rather annoyed at Dr. Brinne. But he did precisely as she instructed, closing the drainage access and moving to lock the doors. "No green ooze, no turtles, and no one delivered una pizza maldita, either." His voice softened, just a little. "Gracias, doc. No, I'm okay. No bullets where the shouldn't be. Take care of Niña, huh?" This day had not exactly gone to plan. Hell, very few days did, but it was definitely not in his "to do" list to get someone shot, following up on a lead about his daughter's murder.

They did get a reasonable amount of information from the outing, though, plus another potential lead upon which to follow up, far away from Justice. Cecily got water samples, which Caesar was admittedly anxious to find out more about. As for himself, Caesar picked up a few more sharp things, some pictures, and the continuation of his mission. It had gotten a lot bigger, now.

The grizzled Mexican unslung his recently acquired katana from his back and laid it upon a nearby table. Seeking to unload the rest of his acquisitions from the bullet-ridden outing, he checked his pockets one by one. This led to the quick rediscovery of the photos from Alicia's office - ones he had grabbed before escaping into the underground bunker. He gave them a good look, and flipped each one over to see if anything was written on the back. Mementos, notes, numbers, etc. If nothing else, he had physical pictures of his girls. It was worth the effort required to retrieve them, at least in his mind. Except for the part where his day guest took a slug to the shoulder. They could have done without that.

A look crossed his face, one that hinted at a man who had made a decision. Caesar retrieved his satellite phone and began cycling through apps, personal and professional. "Got a question, Doctor. What was the ETA on releasing my girls' remains, again? And have you found anything else while we were gone?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway

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Location: Smokey Rd. -> Outside Newnan, Southern Gate

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Ash spent the rest of the drive in silence. There were some hard truths that they all had to face when they got back home, which should be in the next few minutes. He really wanted to use the time to get into something resembling a decent frame of mind, but it wasn't going to be a long enough to get remotely there. It reminded him of the last really bad day he had, just a few weeks ago. He insisted upon hopping into the back of his 'Buster and crawling into a bottle of decent booze. It was a low point for him. Somehow, Mr. James Grady understood what was going on and joined him; kept him in conversation and prevented him from making the night even worse. Then the new girl, Zoie, showed up. Then, quite uninvited, the Shieldmaidens arrived as if they belonged there. He barely knew most of them, but after a while it didn't matter. The occasion was still sad, no denying. There were elements of hope and mirth injected into the situation, however; it was the difference between a funeral and a wake.

As much as Ash wanted to be alone again, he knew it would only put him in a dark place. That hog hunting son-of-a-bitch was right about him: He needed people around to stay human.

It was at this point in his thoughts that the emotionally strained Captain realized something. Everyone with him now that wasn't dead or dying were strangers. This guy Jack - they had one conversation, really, and that was his entrance interview. Otherwise, he had a stack of dead people, and ...Astrid... plus a gathering of very fresh faces. Unknown faces. And he was bringing them into his home.

The walls of Newnan appeared in his vision, looming in the distance. Ash viewed them with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. Now that he was back within clear walkie distance, he addressed the city. "We're coming up on the main gate now. Two medical emergencies and..." He cleared his throat, "...and multiple casualties. Need full teams for both."

Ash pulled up to the gates, waiting for Jim to crank them open wide enough to admit the Hordebuster. For the first time ever, he didn't actually feel like going back inside.

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Black James(!)

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Location: LaGrange Street, headed south -> Building 2, Mess Hall

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The strangest message came across James' radio. He held up a finger to Newnan's most recent guest, as if to indicate that he needed a moment to handle something. "Why how-do, Miss Meg? Good to hear ya'll gettin' back. Now, ain't a thing happened here since you left us, 'cept we cleaned up a little. Oh! And we've got us a visitor."

"The kind that don't wanna shoot us! Score, right?" James had adopted a more joking tone of voice. Probably not the most appropriate thing to do, considering all of the bad that had occurred that day.

Ash's broadcast wiped away what remained of his jovial manner. He was definitely back on the clock, one form or another. While he wasn't the best guy in the whole world with medical anything, growing up with agriculture had most assuredly taught him the proper use of a shovel. "You might should just hang here, Bea. Eat up, don't pay no mind to the quiet guy with the rifle makin' sure you're not gonna kill us all, k?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

"Highway Heading Towards Newnan" People:

So, does anyone have points of conversation to get out? Questions, comments, etc? Anyone in the back of the Hordebuster going to poke around? Take a sip any of the "alternate fuel" from the drums in the back? For that matter, who do we have in the cab of the 'Buster, aside from Jack and Ash? Just wanting to paint a quick picture, if any of the characters involved have anything else to do or say.

Otherwise, I'm going to go ahead and post us pulling into Newnan, next day or so.

Odd thought - if Ashton and Jack were to get into some manner of personal bromance, would we 'ship them as "Jackash"? Because "Asack" doesn't really flow...

Another odd thought - That means Jack would die soon. N'mind.

🦄 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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The second that the display of light burst across their visual, Harper set himself to the necessary and honorable task of saving his own ass. This particular technique of personal ass saving led him to reduce power on one of the Retribution's engines, simultaneously increasing power on the other. Maneuvering thrusters served only to maintain a generally upright position. Generally. Considering that Harper has using the main engines for steering, they did their jobs quite well - that is to say that the ship only bucked and jumped twice in the repositioning, but the damned thing had just turned in a capacity unrealized in its manufacturing specs. Lieutenant Harper really hoped no one was shaving just then. Even snuck a peek back to confirm that Foy was still on the bridge and not tending to a client, just in case.

Considering the distraction in play, he probably didn't need to hook a turn that urgently. He did so for two reasons, primarily: 1) His own nervousness at being chased down by Reavers, while it didn't show in the form of sweating bullets and trembling with anxiety, was causing him to make drastic decisions, and 2) Just because he wanted to. It had been a while since he'd piloted a craft like this, and he really wanted to remind himself of both his and the boat's capabilities.

At mention of finding the Reaver vessel's "blind spot", Harper began scanning the vessel. If it had a place that its visuals and sensors couldn't get at, at least in atmo, he was gunning for the best vector.

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

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: Qasr El Nil Barracks (Officer's Club)

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"Now now, Peter. Don't get ahead of things. Of course I shall tell you why I brought such things into a House of Ill Repute." The Lord Major was trying to hold down a smile, only partially successful in the halfhearted attempt. His nephew had seen this look before in the old man; generally it meant that he was partaking in alcohol-based joviality and his next words should be taken with a grain of salt.

"Of course, dear girl. Now where was I? Ah yes, into a brothel; jackass and honeycomb... He thought for a second or two, and continued, "The madame asked, "How can I help you?", and I reply that I would like to trade the Jackass for time with one of her temporary paramours, you see."

Reginald looked at his audience of two, trying to gauge whether this particular story was going to offend any sensibilities or embarrass his nephew or the young lady that he had just met. The Lord Major was a Peered individual, noble and raised in Gentlemanly behavior, but at his core he was a soldier, and had been so for almost the whole of his life. Some of his "stories" leaned toward more common entertainment than the height of British Refinery. The old man was ready at a second's notice to abandon the conversation, if he detected a hint of social discomfort from his guests. For now, he continued:

"I told her that I had grown tired of the jackass, and it had been quite a while since I had enjoyed a woman's touch. Graciously, the madame honored my request. Then, she asked me about the honeycomb. I responded that I would like to trade the honeycomb for some food, as it was a very long journey and I was quite hungry at that time."

"Well, the madame was confused at this, and asked me why, were I hungry, did I not eat the honeycomb. I looked at her and told her - The same reason I brought the jackass."

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway

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Location: Crash Site -> On the road back to Newnan

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Ash was emotionally dead. Temporarily, this was a good sign; outwardly he would respond with cold rationalism, making decisions for the group based on logic and need. But inside of him, down deep, conflicting feelings grated upon each other. Ash was blessedly anesthetized by his emotional shutdown, at least for now. Hearing that voice in his head again, no matter how fleeting... it was possibly symptomatic of something serious. Logically, he knew this. So long as he realized that one crucial concept, Ash figured he wasn't too far gone. Yet.

Too many people had died, in too short a span of time. Their pool of survivors was shrinking, faster and faster every day. Already there were too few people to hold their fenced-in corner of the world, at least not effectively enough. And the lesson was certainly out there about helping others: You can't actually assist with a medical emergency without losing two of your best people, and you can't go to help them without a casualty or two in the process, either. The dice seemed to be against the grand experiment of Newnan succeeding, and point of fact the only reason that Ash hadn't eaten a bullet by then was his strong undercurrent of duty. He still had people that were his responsibility, people that would be worse off without him.

All the same, the futility was overwhelming, sometimes. He had been to war before. It was the most mortal kind of stress imaginable, especially for someone in an Engineering unit that often had to plow their way ahead of the main force to complete their duties, so that the rest of them could complete theirs. At least there was an overall objective, to it. Terms of service, too, or a definable end to the conflict. If you survived, eventually you would be allowed to go home. If you didn't survive, well... you didn't get back up and try to eat your friends and family. There was no end to this tour, not anymore. There was no getting out, there was no deserting the post, even. Not even death guaranteed escape.

The absolute best that Ash could hope for was to give as many people as he could some mote of security, keep them fed, and delay their demise for as long as he was able. If they found meaning or happiness along the way, great. Such concepts were becoming lost on him.

"If you have any cargo, load it up fast." said Ash to no one in particular. He recovered Bazhooli's hunting rifle and stowed it in the Hordebuster's cab, and began climbing up into the driver's seat. "I'm gone in two. Someone make sure that our dead don't come back."

Ashton waited the promised two minutes, then hit the ignition on his 'Buster. It growled to life in a comforting way for the beleaguered Captain. He waited as Jack climbed into the truck's passenger side. Locking eyes with him, he nodded once. Today was a bad day. Very bad day. "Time to go home. I could use a drink later, ah... after. You?"

He shifted gear and brought the Hordebuster around, traveling at moderate speed back to Newnan.

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Black James(!)

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Location: Newnan Inner Wall - Northern Entrance -> LaGrange Street, headed south

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"Naw, you hang on to your trail mix. If'n you decide to head out, you gonna want somethin' for the road." James kept his voice level and optimistic, as best he could given the circumstances. But this was not exactly the finest hour that Newnan had ever experienced. "Gonna tell you straight, Bea - we had a little accident today. Took some losses, too. Ain't nobody real happy here, but we're most all good people. An' as we can, we feed those that need it."

While James was being open and friendly, the armed escort was being quiet and watchful. James wasn't fully letting his guard down either, staying out of arm's reach of the lady and making sure that the side his 9mm rested upon faced away from her at all times. He talked a good game, but mostly used it as an opportunity to gauge her facial responses which were, to his experience in the matter, not very obvious. All the same, sometimes people needed reassuring words and a little time to rest before they opened up. Some good food never hurt, either.

The veteran hogger took a moment to let Guy up in the tower know what was up, and that he would be fulfilling his temporary duties as Second for the next bit of time. Of course, over the radio he was a hair less elegant in his speech to that effect. "Just keep a good eye out, I'll send someone up 'fore long, keep you company." He then looked to the new girl.

"Like I said, I ain't the usual guy for this. Hell, I'm supposed to be the Farm Guy here, used to do some recruitin', too. James pointed down the road a little bit, past the Armory and past the cloth, under which the formerly alive Sophia used to lay. Why they didn't get the sheet too, he had no idea. The spot of blood was probably a little bit of a turn-off, too. "Like I said, had some losses today. Now, down there's a church we been usin' as a Mess Hall. Our girl Sally's been keepin' some fresh smoked deer, cabbage, an some crackers on hold for stragglers comin' back from work late. We can get you set up there 'till our bossman gets back. Meantime, you got questions? You ain't got to talk if you don't wanna."

James gave a warm, toothy smile, and turned fully to Beatrice. "But I always do like a little supper conversation, don't you?"