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8 yrs ago
Current Malfunctioning Space Toilet (favorite death post in RPG) : roleplayerguild.com/posts/4…
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10 yrs ago
Example of a "Character Flaw": roleplayerguild.com/posts/32..
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@Lady Amalthea

And reposted. Sorry about that, will try to make sure it doesn't happen again.


Elizaveta Romanova
&


Location: Almack's




An unnatural scream blasted across the Assembly Rooms, signaling the sudden explosion of malevolent activity. This seemed too much like the stories of bean sΔ«dhe from Mary's upbringing, "banshee" by more Anglican pronunciation. When she witnessed the numbers of Soulless emerging onto the upper balcony, one detail from the Banshee myth seemed particularly accurate: Hearing its wail meant that someone was destined to die that night. From the looks of things, some several. "Angels and ministers of Grace, defend us."

"The Lord need not protect us my friend, he has given us all ve need to protect ourselves," Elizaveta commented as her wrist turned, spinning the blade in her grasp as her eyes darted across the room. Mary tightened her grip on her halberd, watching the light reflect from its spearpoint and crescent blade. "Indeed He has."

Their position was far less than ideal. Mary and any others nearby were caught out in the open, in a crowd full of people that were likely to start shoving and panicking. The Soulless had the high ground, and without any barrier but open air between them, the people below were sitting ducks. Mary needed to find someplace defensible to fortify or a means of safe egress, but that wasn't happening right at that moment. Besides, she wasn't very keen on being herded with the rest of the British aristocracy. Luckily, Mary was not defenseless. She drew upon her Audist training, adopting a ready stance with her Swiss halberd set before her. Her chain rosary swung from her left wrist, halfway up the reinforced hardwood of her polearm. Fierce eyes gleamed from underneath a tussle of fiery red hair as she set her back to the Grand Duchess Romanova, holding a defensive posture. "This is dying ground, Your Grace!" she called behind her. "We cannot stay here!" But neither could they leave, until the moment was right.

"Dat it is my friend," the grand duchess commented calmly as things took a turn for the worse. Not far from them Virginia tried to calm the crowd and for a split second it seemed like some were listening. That was until ton turned against ton. A man being run through from back to front with another's blade and nearly cutting into the Lady Crypt. Yet God seemed to be smiling on her as the sharpened steel did not meet with pale flesh. A blood bath ensued but in the midst of the fray the red seas of blood parted. Virginia and Mosi making a break for it.

"This vay, make haste before our vindov closes," Elizaveta said to her new friend as she gathered the folds of her gown in her free hand. Moving quickly and praying they path remained clear towards the Musicians Galley just a few moments longer. Mary took off after Elizaveta at dead run, taking wide steps at first to catch up to the withdrawing Royal. She then slipped in front of Elizaveta, turning her halberd to bear in front of her with the same determined discipline as her teachers, the Audist masters of the Pontifical Swiss Guard. Elizaveta was the more important person of the two of them, and in Mary's heart she was a Knight, even if this city refused to recognize it. She would make sure that Veta reached her destination. It was her duty.

Mary continued onward, rotating her weapon into a reversed grip and letting the steel endcap of her polearm lead the way, threading through the human flotsam and jetsam, keeping the path open for her new friend. Once they reached their destination, the aperture leading to the Musicians Gallery, Mary stepped to one side to allow Elizaveta unblocked entrance to the area, away from the stampede of coattailed jackets and fashionable dresses. She entered the room alongside the Grand Duchess to witness yet another Rube Goldberg of tragic events.

Elizaveta kept her eyes forward as they sped through the now murderous crowd, only finally stopping in her tracks as Mary stepped aside for her. The sight of the flautist being impaled on the music stand caused the slightest of grimaces to come to her features. The place was turning itself inside out and upside down. People panicking never turned out well, the addition of the Soulless were not helping. Yet the Soulless had not managed to make it to the main floor as of yet. Still either on different floors or outside. Yet it was only a matter of time. People tripping over each other made for a crowded door that it seemed Mosi and Virginia had only just managed to get through. Turning her head she spotted the other door and made a break for it.

"Path of least resistance," she said as she moved passed Mary and through the Musician's Galley. The route was difficult, having to side step over even step over people. Her gown getting caught up for a moment under someone's foot but Elizaveta was not halting her progress and kept moving. The sound of the seam ripping couldn't be heard but it wasn't enough damage to cause a fuss over nor enough to be noticed by the naked eye. Stepping into the hallway Elizaveta looked around. The corridor was not full yet, people running towards the front door trying to get out. Others coming into the corridor from across the way.

Veta's path of least resistance held some concern for Mary. She had given earlier consideration to the possibility of being herded along with the rest of the crowd at Almack's into a situation far worse than the one they were in at the moment. This felt more like a trap than an assault.

Her quarter second of thought was intruded upon by one of the less ethical gentry, a rabidly excited man in white-on-white with a tailed, black coat. Apparently, he believed that he could make more sporting work with Mary's halberd than herself. Fear does strange things to people. This one's fear had him attempting to mug a lady of the Church. He planted his hands upon the haft of the blessed weapon, fueled by adrenaline if not common sense, in an attempt to wrest it from her hands. Mary tried to jerk it from his grasp, but the gentleman's fervor to obtain the tool of battle was such that a simple pull would not suffice. Instead, Mary had to resort to her training.

Initiating a counterclockwise rotation of the halberd, Mary waited the heartbeat of time necessary for the man to instinctively try to move it the opposite direction. She immediately reversed her spin, using the poor bastard's force against him. It gave her purchase enough to plant a heel solidly on the floor behind his leg, and leverage him backwards. The last thing he heard before flying into the throng of people massing behind them (excepting the impaled flautist, of course) was a dangerous feminine Scottish accent hissing the words of Exodus: "Thou Shalt Not Steal." The way now a little clearer for the struggle, the armed Apostolic dashed out into the corridor, rejoining Elizaveta.
@Lady Amalthea

Hey. I didn't add a Location in the header for our collab, just noticed, and edits for collabs are a huge no-no. Totally my bust on this one, willing to suffer the consequences IC.
@Lady Amalthea

So, um... yeah. As it turns out, the vehicle I have listed for Keystone (and by extension, the MSS motor pool standard) doesn't really exist. The 2016-17 Dodge Ramcharger was a huge practical joke, set up to get old-school Ramcharger fans and security vehicle aficionados excited about the return of the line. It has vehicle specs, interior pictures, testimonials, whole nine. But it does not exist off of paper. I'm actually a little bit sad.

Now, best I can see it, I've got two options:

One, we can pretend that it does exist for the purposes of this RP, and go about our business.

Two, we can count this as me applying for a vehicle change. The nearest REAL vehicle that exists that fills that role in the year range with many of the options listed is the Range Rover Sentinel. The main difference being that it is more robust in terms of taking a bullet, though has greatly reduced cargo/passenger capability in comparison and is lower to the ground (classified as a luxury performance SUV/fast response security vehicle rather than an armored personnel/cargo vehicle like the Ramcharger). This means that I would have to flip out the motor pool, as well; Keystone is only borrowing the car from the company while he's in California.

All in all, this is an FYI. I'm good either way.


William Harper

Location: Galley -> en route to Quarters


The Alliance pilot presently known as Harper was almost fully able to suppress a wry expression at the scene unfolding before him. An offer of fruit preserves from Persephone and a request for conversation was met by a fully inebriated Dandy who ran out of the Galley, presumably to find a more suitable place to vomit, a perpetually cross Captain who (by the looks of things) was subtly threatening his life, and a particularly presumptuous Doctor who took his offer of something sweet as an invitation to feed half of the crew. Truth be told, just about every Browncoat on board had disappointed him in one way or another. The Alliance personnel weren't any better, in their own ways, but it was at least expected of them. It could be that his overall mood was coloring the events playing out before him, but he honestly expected his egress from the military to be a hair more idealistic than what was happening.

"We're in a Galley, packed to redundancy with decent food." he noted aloud, irritation notable. "Not nutrient rations, not compressed soy and yeast. Actual food. Yet my private stores get the attention." Harper shook his head and began putting the lids back onto what remained of his precious, sugary fruits. "The Captain is correct. This is a good time to call it a day. If you require my services specifically, I'll be in my quarters." Harper had dropped the pretense of military protocol verbally, yet retained his starched posture. He strode to a cabinet and procured for himself a Standardized Meal Pack, reminiscent of the old MREs of Earth-That-Was, and made for the door. He might have gone for something a bit more luxurious for his supper, but this required the least amount of preparation while still seeing to his nutritional needs. And still beat the hell out of prison food.

About halfway to the exit Harper stopped, returned to the scene of the appropriation of his foodstuffs, and snatched up the remainder of the water crackers. "Ma'am." he said flatly, "Your people have not left a great impression so far. But tomorrow's another day, right?" before returning to his path of egress. Yeah, tomorrow was another day. But tonight, Harper took some solace in the fact that he would be sleeping with a loaded firearm, if he could sleep at all.

Considering everything, maybe these people just took some getting used to. Or maybe he would take up Anisa's offer to be dropped at the next port along with whomever else didn't pass muster. He might even be able to return to the Alliance with a mostly true story of getting hijacked by Browncoats, and continue his overall plan that way. But there was a Plan C forming in the back of Harper's brain. Yes, there was always another option, if one dared to take it. The tiniest smile curled up one corner of his mouth as he walked the corridor back to his room.
I came across this German/English song today, and it totally makes me think of Thalken right now. XD


That's a coincidence! I came across my own German/English song that reminded me of Thalken right now.

@ONL

That looks to be a GM call. I'm providing a piece of the setting and overview on military protocol of the period. I don't have the authority to speculate on outcome, nor can I bunny characters without their approval or a nod from the GM.


Reginald Keystone



Location: Grand Continental Hotel -> Qasr El Nil Barracks




Reginald regarded the words of his nephew carefully. "Quite, yes..." he responded. While he was sure that Lady Kingston was a keenly intelligent and resourceful young lady, he would still feel much better were she either present, or under guard. This day was mentally taxing, in unfamiliar and exciting ways. "Perhaps I should speak with Lady Munn about her. I was given to believe that they were getting along swimmingly; perhaps she may provide greater insight on the morrow." Well, there was nothing to be done about that now. The Lord Major had other duties to attend at the moment, not the least of which was to secure the safety of all the members of his new "Fellowship". Possibly even from each other.

As he exited the Rolls-Royce, a younger man in the NCO uniform of a Corporal (no, not that one) could be seen sprinting across the courtyard, small stack of papers in hand. He threw a breathless salute to Reginald, which was returned smartly by the older man. "Yes, yes. At ease, Corporal." said Reginald, prompting an expectant look from the louder, more exuberant patrol leader Corporal in the immediate vicinity. The Lord Major turned to the group of (mostly) civilians assembling before him, cleared his throat, and addressed them openly.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, friends and otherwise, here is where the slings and arrows of military protocol tie my hands and yours. You are all to be billeted in a secure area of this fortification, you see. Whereas I extend the hospitality of the British Empire, I must follow the decree of the His Majesty's Royal Armed Forces."

The gate closed behind them, locked and barred by personnel on duty. Reginald continued after the noise of it died back down. "I shall require every one of you not commissioned by the British Military and further not assigned to this Barracks to follow our Clerk here to his office, one at a time. Take everything you intend to retain while on base with you. You shall be required to sign General Papers of Nondisclosure. You shall also have your person and your belongings searched for weapons and contraband; items that are not allowed in the secure areas of Qasr El Nil. This will be performed by the Corporal and two men of his patrol in a private room, adjacent to the Clerk's office." The Lord Major motioned to the more obnoxious Corporal, off to the left.

"Right away, Lord MAJOR!" he screamed, snapping to attention and jerking a highly motivated salute to his brow.

Reginald shoved his growing irritation at the mildly caustic man down, though with some obvious distress. While it was true that he wouldn't lose sleep after seeing the man drug from the back of an automobile through a cactus farm, he did recognize the man's spit-and-polish tendency to be thorough and enthusiastic about whatever job he was thrown into. He was a "results" guy. Damnit.

"Just go, Corporal. Quietly."

He sighed and continued his speech with the monotony of a man having done so many, many times. "Such items will be catalogued and stored in a safe place to be returned upon your departure. Items deemed illegal by the Crown shall be appropriated or destroyed, at the discretion of the Commanding Officer." He gave a moment for everyone to mentally prepare. As Reginald was fully aware, a sudden search could seem like a violation of personal space. As a military man, he had grown accustomed to it over the decades, but he understood the mild traumas of the event. "Results of the catalogue will be reported upward. Now, Miss Tarek? I'm sure you would prefer rest and privacy sooner rather than later. You may go first. Just follow the Clerk back to the main office, and report back to me after. I have secured spacious accommodation specifically for you overlooking the Nile, not far from my own billet. Madame?" he motioned to the offices.

"The Corporal is thorough, but respectful. All the same, courage. And earplugs."


#Debriefing
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