Sigil

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: Morgue

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Club Afterdark? The very place that Caesar was about to investigate getting shot up that hour. This did not bode well. He looked to Cecily the second that the club's name was mentioned and shook his head slightly. There existed in this universe an infinite amount of possibilities, all situations dynamic and fluid. The only certainty was uncertainty, wrapped in a huge, shadowy cloak of recurring maybes. Which is why, given all that was happening, the drive-by could not be a coincidence in the least.

Of course, the situation made it impossible for him to carefully saunter in there later on and start asking questions over shots of tequila like a Mexican Sam Spade. If something screwy were going down, they'd have already been questioned thoroughly by the police still on the scene (this guy Gregory included), and the cops would not be receptive to an old, foreign civilian poking his nose into the drama. Afterdark tonight was out, for all practical intentions.

Well, unless he was really intimidating. And could get someone who knew something alone for a few minutes of Sharp & Pointy Extreme Interviewing.

He decided to be honest with this detective, more or less. Sure as hell couldn't hurt. But first... "Yeah, you're the cop from that other night... Boston Heights. Thanks again for getting my ride. I was investigating another murder, evidence put us in that area. Private security forgot State and Federal laws on detaining and firing at civilians. I couldn't risk going back after my trike, not with Cecily wounded. And I couldn't risk them finding it and using it to track her or me."

Caesar looked gravely at the Detective. "Lot of people dying. Looks unrelated, but it's not. Any decent cop would have figured this out by now, so I know you know more than you're going to say. That's probably smart. And I have good money that says your drive-by is part of this, too. Was anyone targeted? Specifically?"

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Location: St. Etheldreda's - Infirmary

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Mary stood in the hallway, politely listening to what her new acquaintance had to say. At first, it seemed ludicrous. If there were more kinds of Soulless out there preying on Humanity, then she lokely would have already heard of this - the Vatican would have heard of this. She would have recieved training to combat a new threat. But she had not. Yet, Mary could read no dishonesty on the woman's face. The more she spoke, the more rational her claims seemed.

"Yes, I agree. We should discuss this somewhere with more privacy. My personal rooms are this way." informed the young Apostolic, motioning back the way they had come. "Before anything else, Lady Romanova, is the boy in further peril? And is he a danger to others?" Her voice, once sweetness and hospitality, became strained with a more militant, objective tone. Not a full change in priority, but a definitive calling of attention to duty.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@FantasyChic

A Fletcher is a person who crafts arrows, yes. Usually paired skill with Bowyer (person who makes bows), sometimes the two are intended to be interchangeable. As scavenging a quality bow is probably as safe a bet as making one, Tiffany will largely be called upon to craft arrows more than bows. You will require the services of a metalworker or similar craftsman for arrowheads.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Morose

That would be "Mr. (Black) James Mandingo Grady, Sir". Not an internationally known musician, granted. People in the American Southeast, Gulf Coast, and Texas know him by reputation alone. Admittedly, it doesn't come up in conversation very much anymore.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

Meant to post this earlier, but relations for Ash and James are up. Please let me know if this works for you guys.

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

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: Qasr El Nil Barracks (Officers' Club)

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"My, but those lads with the Fourth Estate are imaginative..." mused the elder Keystone, putting one paper to the side and selecting another in the small stack of newsprint on the table before him. They all seemed to be very interested in his nephew Peter, easily making him the Talk of London, and so by extension, the Talk of the British Empire. Many of the periodicals exalted the young man, his tenacity and cunning in surviving the horrors of the past few years and his resolve in returning to find his childhood sweetheart. Some predicted that he would soon be on the road yet again to find his lady love, prompting an utterance of, "Oh my, I see they did scratch up an accurate detail, hmm..."

Reginald paused his light reading to attend his tumbler of whisky, and rattled off a sentiment to the slender man behind the bar. "You know, good sir... in my youth, the average newsman printed facts, you see. Proper and solid fact, mind you, about current events and local happenings, that sort of thing... But it seems lately to be a sordid quagmire of sensationalism. Takes a practiced hand to sort out the riches from the rubbish as of late. Quite. And I've not even gotten to the rabble-rousers yet."

The bottom of his glass was found some four seconds later, and the Lord Major decided to have a fill of his pipe. It was a practical, short-stemmed affair; a pipe for a military field officer. He packed it fully from an old fashioned tobacco pouch and set it between his teeth, resting gently as to avoid unnecessary scratching along the mouthpiece. He produced a curious brass lighter and sparked it to life. The device was well crafted and polished, obviously an handmade item - crafted from the brass of a spent gunnery casing. He touched fire to leaf and drew air through the pipe until a dull orange glow emanated from the bowl. Satisfied, Reginald returned to his reading.

"Oh, bother..." he groaned. The next headline was less than gracious; it detailed an account where one reporter voiced a theory to Peter that his beloved Vera was the culprit responsible for the death of her uncle and the subsequent grave robbing. This attempt to paint the Lord Major's adoptive niece in such a manner infuriated him, and in classic Keystone tradition, Peter did precisely what he would have done in for such an occasion: Peter put his fist in the reporter's eye, and apparently let fly a slew of words most ungentlemanly but quite possibly highly appropriate.

"Yes, and it bloody well serves that cad properly." he said aloud, making note of the name of the reporter. In the event that they ever crossed paths, Reginald wanted to give the man a supplementary opinion to Peter's, in a manner and attitude similar to the original. Perhaps he could darken the other eye. "Nobody drags my family through the mud to sell Periodicals. Nobody."

"Now... to find the funnies section..."

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

@BlackSam3091@Lady Amalthea

Looks okay on my end. Fairly straightforward.

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

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Keystone

Location: Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Small Hours of Day Four

Interacting With: His own seething rage, mostly.

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Surprise brought Keystone to his feet. A massive, vertical slab of ice splitting open with a solid crack, spilling a ton of previously ambient moisture onto the ground in waves will do that to a person. Sana's sudden explosion into the waking world was a bit of startle, but not something with the pants-darkening potential of a wall of ice immediately converting into the secondmost mobile state of physical matter.

Keystone grabbed his pack and sought to lift Sana from the ground as the freezing water quickly made their campsite unpleasant. He noted with a defining lack of enthusiasm that the water had not only soaked the ground around them, but instantly put out their small campfire, eliminating any chance at the base luxuries of civilized existence. He sighed heavily into the gloom of the approaching morning. He remarked about his feelings on the subject with a slow, even voice, his tone tinged with sardonic irritation. "Jolly. There went tea, chance at bacon, and any sodding possibility of salvagin' an hour of three's rest 'fore we piss off out of 'ere. And I do intend pissin' off, thankya."

"I'm done with today. Day ain't bloody started yet, and I'm done. Fonging Mulligan, or somethin'."

Complaints aside, he did note with raised hopes that Sana was coming through her little ordeal. The coincidence that she regained her senses at the exact moment the ice broke was not lost on him, though further than that observation he could only speculate through a remarkably cloudy lens. Keystone was no spellcaster. His voice quieted as he posed Sana a query, Oy, have a nice nap, didja? You good?"

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

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Retribution, Bridge

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The rush of planetary air caressing his face seemed like a luxury, until the relative heat of the local climate took hold. Optimistic sarcasm prompted comment, naturally. "I say, when someone writes the ballad of this little endeavor, they mayhap would note that the extremely well outfitted gentleman from Farraday was seen to perspire. I do hope future music aficionados do not take it as a sign of momentary weakness."

On the surface, Foy unslung his Callahan and checked its scope, doing a quick read for distance and sweeping the exterior of the vessel(s) ahead of them. From this distance, pistols would be of little use. A good shot with a rifle, even a shorter barreled one like the one in Foy's manicured hands, might be the deciding factor in a conflict until they closed the gap. Unless, of course, they had the capacity to fire ship-to-ship armament. The thought caused that Gentleman Barber to glance over his shoulder, back at the Retribution. "I have, at this moment, a question and a pressing suggestion, fellows. I shall start with the suggestion, as it might be the more immediate of the two: It appears that our esteemed Pilot colleague has pointed us directly at the damaged ship we hope to intercept on foot, I must assume to keep weapons vigorously fixed upon it. To that end, I suggest we amble a few paces to the side of a direct line, perhaps?"

"And as to question: One of us has a clear line of communication with the ship, yes? I should hate to be out of touch for too long."

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: Morgue

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Caesar accepted the scornful remark from Cecily's friend in Law Enforcement gravely. He understood the position from where the man was speaking, and thusly responded with a little more grace than he ordinarily dispensed in similar situations.

"Si, si. Yo se, hura. You're no errand boy. This is why I appreciate your effort. Gracias." He extended a hand to the man, unsure as to whether they had met previously. "Caesar Gonzalez." he said as a means of simple introduction. Caesar would have wagered money that they hadn't met, yet the younger man seemed curious as to the identity of Dr. Brinne, and not himself. Perhaps it was a bit of a slip - if the grizzled Mexican were under investigation or watch of some kind by the authorities (that possibility wouldn't have surprised him in the least), then the man's overt curiosity about him wouldn't be as noticeable. Certain questions would have already been answered. At any rate, if someone gets your vehicle back from a general area in which someone tried to insert rapidly bullets into your physiology, you shake their hand.

Then Cecily's remark about Lone Macho Crap struck a chord. It did seem rather action movie stereotypical, if he was being honest with himself. Different time, he would have laughed about it. "You want to come have a drink with an old man, after taking a bullet? Be my guest. Maybe it's why they call them shots. I think you would stand out in this place. Maybe stand out more than me. Anyway, I'm just going to ask a few questions. Shake some more trees, see what falls out."

Caesar wasn't headed there immediately, anyway. He had to divest himself of some of the new hardware he had picked up, and wasn't 100% about his apartment. Not with the revelation that it apparently had previously unknown storm drain access, and people were using it enough to make a map. After a few minutes, maybe it was best to stop by his company's offices at Queensguard R&D; drop stuff off, check in on business personally.