Sigil

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

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Keystone

Location: Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern

Interacting With: The Group

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It was simple and wholesome food, the kind common among the lower classes who were lucky enough to have access to fresh eggs. For a time in his youth, eggs were something of a commodity; not rare, but not something that they could afford everyday. When he was old enough to work outside of the home (which was comparatively very young), it seemed that all of his earnings went to feeding his family. Of course, by that time "family" meant himself and his mother. But it did drastically improve the quality of their diet, even if he was more or less a child laborer.

The extra munchies they were able to purchase turned into a kind of a game for the Keystone household. At any time that he wasn't engaged in negligently dangerous labor or dead asleep for his efforts, his mother made good use of their time, teaching him a broad array of culinary techniques. Her skill with a knife and spatula was such that it suggested training far surpassing the limits of their modest, declining neighborhood. Keystone was given a trade via informal apprenticeship from a master of the craft, all before he was of marriageable age. Of course, that was before he found his calling clubbing people into broken unconsciousness with his bare fists.

Keystone regarded Thomas's comment about the Eggy Bowls with a mote more quiet than he ordinarily addressed comments about his epicure. His style of cuisine would always have a base formed all those years ago, in a simple kitchen not unlike the one in the Crossed Swords. Regardless of the additional techniques he had added to his repertoire, the influence would remain. It was a solemn little thought, the fact that the tiny spark of origin that set his cooking apart from the artists under which he learned later could not be effectively passed on, not in the same manner. "Funny thing, learnin' foodcraft like I did. Learned to use a knife, same source." The reference was obviously indicating Thomas's earlier inquiry to Nor (and Keystone's interjection). Nontheless, the thoughts it brought to the surface did make him a little sad.

He buried his fleeting grief in the plate of breakfasty comfort food, consuming it quickly and in silence. As soon as he was done scarfing it back in a manner befitting a starving dog, Keystone made liberal use of a linen and rose from the table. Less than a minute later, he found himself back upstairs and in the presence of the greater part of the group. "Right then... where're we at?"

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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_{"When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom."}

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Location: Almack's

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Talink. It was just a word to Mary, but obviously one that the impetuous man in front of her thought would carry weight. Maybe it was even a famous name in certain circles of London, but the Hale Clan was native to more northern latitudes. Further, the infamy of the brazen person's surname had not reached her ears during her lengthy time in the Vatican, training with the Holy See and Swiss Guard. No, to Mary this was yet another entitled child of nobility, hoping that the mention of a name a handful of threats would be useful in cowing those they thought lesser than themselves.

She took particular note of the quieter histrionics of Thalken's speech. Mary had heard similar bits of conversation, usually while on assignment someplace rural or in a slummier part of a grand European city. An attempt to intimidate and impress simultaneously. Difficult to pull off in a mixed crowd; most opted for one or the other. It was to be expected from some people, and if Mary's own, very recent experience here at Almack's Assembly Rooms was any indicator, then the broad umbrella of "some people" extended to cover The Ton, and many who obstinately considered themselves noble. Including that disreputable, puffed-up Earl(?) Of Whatever that attempted to relieve Mary of her weapon during the fray. Admittedly, it left an even further displeasing color over the night's events; the hubris of some people who believed the circumstances of their birth gave them moral immunity.

Whatever this man actually was, Mary saw him then as just another lesser nobleman who got an invitation to the Big Nobleman Party and insisted upon pushing his personal agenda upon a good friend of hers during an emotional moment. This upgrade in status was only after she decided that he wasn't another Soulless. But she did hit the nail on the head with her suspicions of having an ulterior motive.

"I must confess to my unfamiliarity with the line of Talink." stated Mary, voice unmoved from its polite, seraphic manner. The firearm remained as it was, even with the rosary swinging lightly back and forth from her wrist, and her eyes held their sharp warrior's gaze. "Though I should hope it is not the custom of your people to prey upon the grieving for personal gain or curiosity. I would advise an act of atonement following an apology for such monumentally crass behavior. If it is truly your wish to help, there are other earthly vessels that require transportation. This person is spoken for." Her eyebrows raised, shifting the contours of her face to resemble a schoolteacher, patiently trying to explain a simple lesson to a child who had failed several times to comprehend it. "Action to the contrary is foolish, especially if one wishes to present one's self favorably." Her eyes narrowed again as she coldly added, "And I do not suffer fools, sir."

Her other hand, still in rear fencer's position, surreptitiously found the hilt of one of her short blades. "The Lady Crypt and I have a labor to finish, if you would be as kind as to excuse us?"

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Passive Skills:

• Fal'shbort - You are tougher, stronger, more Russian!
• Tretiy Glaz - An ability that gives a person a sixth sense into the future. Unpredictable and random.

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Location: Almack's Assembly Rooms

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Vladimir accepted the permission of the younger Thalcona with the tiniest amount of gracious pause. "Absolyutno. I thank you vor opportunity, madame." The seasoned Master Alexandrov took to the quick and uninvolved task of looking deeply into the her eyes, staring as if witnessing a sight unavailable to others. The parting of a veil into one's very essence, reading fragments of Self as they formed together, not unlike the steady formation of ice crystals. When enough facets found each other, images could be glimpsed. It was the ability to see into this crystalline images and interpret what one found therein with accuracy that gave this legendary ability of the Rusyn Cossacks the reputation it had back in the Empire. Vladimir was a man of experience, but even so, the images were not always clear. Such was the unpredictability of the Chteniye Dushi.

"Pain and darkness, molodoy. Pain and darkness on one side, and you on other side of scale. You are in set ov two, but you know this. Forever you vill be chained to darkness, unless one of set leaves. Or dies." The charismatic Russian had considered giving her the standard, pseudo-clairvoyant brushoff of "Oh, bright future, many kids, happiness in the future, blah blah blah...", but this young woman had honest issues. And he guessed that her earlier behavior was because of a lack of social experience beyond a narrow explanation of how the world operates. But that was not revealed in the vision, merely an assumption based upon something he had witnessed. "Ah, chert... Do not listen to ramble. Maybe if vant, you can help vith ceremony? The Grand Duchess can keep dead from raising as Soulless. Rusyn gift, like Chteniye Dushi. Ve vill need all dead closeby. Unless you have other duty now? Shh, but vith quiet, da?"

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

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: Qasr El Nil Barracks

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Qasr El Nil Barracks

"...where the devil is that blasted doctor...?" thought Reginald, his gaze drifting from Vera on the ground to the door nearest the building's exterior. Granted, it wasn't the Doc's fault that it took a soldier more than a minute to scuttle along to Medical, explain the situation, and hurry back; but the Lord Major was in a mindset of decided contrariness until such time as he knew Vera was going to be okay. Speaking of which, the one attempt to rouse the woman without hands lain upon her or her face being poked by persons lacking medical training was underway. Apprehensive curiosity took the man. Such an attempt seemed valid - he had been subjected to it one or twice, or seven or eight(y) times over the course of his drinking career, though much of the time it resulted in spewing abdominal gravy about the floorboards. Of course, that was due to an overabundance of drink, not whatever was afflicting Vera. Hopefully, if successful, the floorboards would remain unsullied.

Then the oddest thing occurred: Reginald picked up the greater part of a short conversation taking place within a couple meters of himself. It was surreal, bordering on the truly unbelievable; persons under the protection and scrutiny of the Royal Military were openly discussing The Curse and dropping names involved with their little venture in front of non-military, indigenous personnel in direct violation of their Papers of Nondisclosure. Not to mention the fact that they seemed to have renewed an interest in Peter again. The Lord Major looked over to the pair with an incredulous look bearing down upon them. They didn't necessarily have to be great friends, but some professional courtesy was demanded in this instance. Particularly as the penalty for doing so was severe, self-preservation might have been an acceptable motivation.

It looked very much like they were bound and determined to railroad their efforts. If the local constabuary got word of this before they were comfortably underway, they had problems. Reginald gave a sidelong glance to the representative from the Cairo Prison to see if he was reacting to anything that had been said thusfar. With luck, he was distracted by an English Breakfast and his adoptive niece falling to the floor. Fingers crossed. This would definitely be addressed after Vera was seen to.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar y Keystone

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Location: Justice Asylum

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Naturally, ready to leave the building did not necessarily mean that they were going to leave the building, no matter how pragmatic it appeared to be for their continued potential survival. Upon hearing Tinder's words to the SWAT Lead, Caesar held out a hand to stop Keystone's preparations for egress. It seemed that their presence would draw more in the way of unwanted attention if they left at that time, without first speaking to the team leader of the heavily armed pawns of a corrupt law enforcement organization. He kept his face neutral and made sure that his credentials were displayed prominently on the front of his coat, then turned and addressed the man. "Sorry about earlier. More used to writing a report about a scene than giving a statement." Yup. Suck it up, be respectful, and put this guy in the rearview as soon as the formalities were over.

Keystone, the somewhat larger and less experienced of the pair (though to be fair, some biblical figures bore less life experience that Caesar) concurred with his mentor's statement, holding out a business card to the SWAT Lead. "Yeah, ditto. Be right 'appy, give a rundown on events. This's where we can be reached, if'n you got questions after." The path to getting the hell out of that particular situation and back on their original path for the evening, let alone process the new information at their disposal, lay in dumping information from their perspective points of view. Honesty seemed to be the best policy in this instance; there was a third party on the scene and their stories really should match up, plus the difficulty with not having a moment's notice to come up with anything better between the two of them. Besides, if the window jumping psycho bitch told anyone on her side of the conspiracy what happened (which was highly likely), word would filter back anyway.

So! Storytime, getting off scene, prepare for departure, maybe get some food somewhere in that time. They had places to be. Hopefully those places would put them a step or two further in figuring out what all was going on. A possible stroke of luck was the name Tutwiler. If not luck, something to research on the plane.

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

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William Harper

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Location: Cargo

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The soft and swift report of footfalls upon floor heralded the approach of the former Alliance pilot; that status being one of the facts about himself he verified of his own volition. Considering the status of his present persona, dead or estranged from the chain of command, it might be said that is was doubly true: Former Alliance Pilot. But no matter. Harper sped to the Cargo Bay, intent on picking up some tech from his personal belongings to assist in his endeavors with the Retribution's onboard computer systems, particularly the Captain's accessible items.

For those inside of the Cargo Bay, the sound of those footfalls would have become evident a second or two before the man himself skidded to a halt in front of the open doors to the area proper, one hand clutching the frame around the aperture to assist in his deceleration and change of direction. In the next half-second when he fully noticed his surroundings, he stopped short and suddenly adopted a more polished demeanor, like a kid who just realized that the adults caught him doing something slightly embarrassing. It seemed that Cargo was the place to be right then.

"This seems to be a very popular room." he stated to no one in particular, "Are we having a meeting and nobody told me?" He scanned the room, trying to figure out who all was present. It looked like over half of the ship, at least of those who remained after the purge of personnel following their landing. He strode over to the area designated for personal effects leaving the ship after the sale, and found his stack. Being a man of uncertain means and very recently back in the habit of owning property, there wasn't much to sort through. "I'll just be a moment. Need something to speed along final diagnostics and formatting." he didn't see Anisa right then, so he risked glances at Dorothy as he spoke, being as she was next in the chain.

Locating his black box terminal, Harper repacked his case and turned to leave for the Captain's Office. Before he got halfway to the door, he turned to Jahosafat. "Ah, Doctor? The Captain insisted that I talk to you about a physical sterilization of the vessel a little later? Down to the microbe, if possible. I'll find you when I'm done, Doctor." With that, he turned again to exit.

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Cargo

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Watching the approach of the Pilot, who had seemingly altered something fundamental about himself, Foy got curious. There was something about Harper that he couldn't quite pin down, and this latest development had him quite perplexed. He resolved to keep an eye on the man, and not for the first time. Foy nodded to his childhood friend, stating, "Have you noticed, good sir, that our man Harper appears in significantly greater repose as of late? I should reason an instance such as the one in which we presently find ourselves enmeshed would manufacture a more overall imposition of tension in a straightlaced military officer." He twirled the tip of hi moustache in one hand, musing to himself, "If I may flex my Carroll: Curiouser and curiouser..."

"But I digress!" he exclaimed, remembering his manners before it was entirely too late. "It has indeed been too long since we have mutually participated in a good debauch! Particularly as it would be to the memory of a fellow Contractor, though our acquaintanceship was harrowingly brief." It was true, he saw Camilla for approximately two minutes before her life was taken from her. He didn't even know her name until after the deed was done. Nonetheless, a Soldier of Fortune, even one who had found a solid cause, linked them in an odd, intangible way. Maybe it was kismet; one merc dies, another stands ready to take her place. Well, if Foy could come to terms with the Captain. "Absolutely, Josie. I accept your proposition as it becomes nearer the evening hour, and if you insist on the invitation of the Lady Captain and Leviticus, it may behoove our interests to make their evening's festivities, ah... gratis, you understand? In the meantime, I shall busy myself with the transportation of the remaining cases that represent my parlor, mobile though it is. I shall return momentarily, sir."

Yes, a good way to spend a little R&R. His mind was already going through the possibilities of a moneyed individual in a port city. "I do look forward to a proficient 'stache waxing, if you take my meaning..."

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway

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Location: Northern Parking Lot of Building 4 (Repair Shop) -> Building A (Ash's House)

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Still holding James's woodaxe, Ash crouched low to the ground. His eyes seemed transfixed on the blood and specks of grey matter slowly dripping from the tough hewing blade of the tool, seemingly oblivious to the world around him. Maybe he should have shot James. Killing him would bring everything full circle and end any direct reprisals. But that wasn't who he was. Yes, it was a stretch of the rules here. Also yes, it might be considered favoritism. There was really no getting away from that, and it would make living in Newnan with him as the central authority harder; he didn't expect everyone would understand why he made the decision he did. Others might be sorely tempted to try something unpleasant or insubordinate, sarcastically throwing this incident in his face as to why it doesn't matter whatever they did, call him a hypocrite or claim he's being unfair. Examples might have to be made.

Perhaps that guy Ryan was right. Ash's compassion - what was left of it - was his weakness. He wasn't ready to completely give it up yet, though.

Despite appearing mentally closed off from his surroundings, Ash clearly heard the conversation between Thana and Gavin. He could feel heat rise in his face. The previous evening held meaning for him, more than anyone really knew. Not even Thana. To hear public conversation about this very recent arrival not only having a serious romantic history with her, plus carrying a torch for her all this time? Love was mentioned. Leaving. Waiting. Returning. Ash wished that he could have been insulated from the world as he appeared to be, but duty to the town and his people kept him acutely aware of every nuance and detail around him. Even so, he continued to crouch, regarding that woodaxe with apparent interest.

The time came when he refused to stay there any longer, listening to the tall Texan gush about his feelings for Thana. And why shouldn't he? If he kept hope for her survival against all odds and finally found her, who the hell was he to get in the way? An honorable man, he reckoned, would have backed out. If it weren't for Thana stressing certain syllables in otherwise innocuous conversation, hinting that she had chosen him as much as he had chosen her, he very well may have. But that was before Gavin's Big Reveal. Ash's rural Virginian upbringing demanded satisfactory response to this situation on his part, or a declaration of intent on Thana's. Either way, you can't make someone want to be with you. James was partly right. This indeed was a real sackslap. He just missed the timing of primary sackslappage by a couple of minutes. Not to mention the source.

Ash carefully placed the head of the axe in the steadily growing puddle of slush and shook it about, dislodging the vast majority of the gore from the item, and rose fully to his feet. He walked briskly to his home, just up the road a piece, axe in hand. At the moment, he just wanted to get behind private doors before his steadfast adhesion to the Stoic Arts was tested beyond his capacity to remain calm in that moment. He did not stop, did not address people whose paths he may have crossed on the way. Ash continued until he walked up his steps and reached his front door. There, he was forced to stop. Thana still had the key.

He looked down at James's axe, debating using it to smash open the door. After a tense moment, Ash let out a growl of frustration. It built wordlessly into a sustained, primal yell, and he flung the axe upon the smooth, fitted planks of his deck. It hit the wooden surface with a hollow clatter and slid a couple of feet away, coming to rest nearby. "Goddamnit..." he half-shouted through clenched teeth. He had a feeling of very specific helplessness; there were things he could do to change the outcome of everything that was going on. He didn't like any of this. But to do so, to change anything to make himself feel better would mark him as the most despicable sort of tyrant. And make the situation so much worse for everyone else. No, he was fair, or at least tried to be.

Instead, he slumped down into a chair on his front porch, head in hands. As an afterthought, he removed James's 9mm pistol from the back of his belt and lay it on the small deck table near him. Quiet tears, few in number, spilled from his eyes, a mark of utter frustration more than anything else, though Ash could tell you that a lot more was in there. He quickly wiped them away and fell into a solid brood. It was said that in Newnan, no one could brood like Ash, not even the most surly of lone wolf types in the present Apocalypse. It is a thing that, if he could somehow harness the power of Brooding, he might be unstoppable.

Right then, for the good of the community, Ash had to keep it together until he could get behind a door and into an interior room.

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Black James(!)

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Location: Building C (James's House)

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Looking around his house, James was a little depressed to notice that there was very little he could actually take from this place. During his time in Newnan, he had amassed a respectable amount of stuff, but very little of it would be of use to him out in the world as it was. No matter how many Singing Billy Bass wall hangers he might have collected, nor the impressive number of different bottles of domestic hot sauce, none of this was going to actually help. So far as he was aware, James was going to have to start completely over, and to do so, he had to get back into his mindset of Roving Hog Hunter. There were a few sounders that might be around this area, or might be in a couple of weeks as the weather warms. He could take minimal supplies and attempt to set up a redneck, semi-rural homestead on the temporary. But it really couldn't be anywhere very close; Newnan had done a respectable job scavenging for supplies in the area. Though, there were a few places they hadn't gone yet... But that was not a "now" problem.

Nope, James needed to get the basics, equip himself as he was when he entered Newnan, what seemed like a lifetime ago. From here, he could probably get a couple changes of clothes and boots, his best hunting knife, and possibly a blanket or sleeping bag. He was sorely tempted to just grab his bug-out bag, the one that was assigned to him when he took up residence, but that might be an overstep. He was give time to assemble his own supplies; someone else might need it someday. If the Powers That Be here decided to gift him one, great. Considering he was supposed to be dead right now, James was most assuredly not in a favor-asking mood.

He did grab his bow, a finely crafted item with a lifetime of service left to it, and a full sheaf of arrows. It was an invaluable tool to him, out in the world. As much as his knife and actually more useful than his rifle for quick and quiet food acquisition. Anyhow, a few sundries down, and he looked to his armed escort, saying, "Aight man. Gotta hit Agriculture. Important shit o'there."

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Passive Skills:

• Fal'shbort - You are tougher, stronger, more Russian!
• Tretiy Glaz - An ability that gives a person a sixth sense into the future. Unpredictable and random.

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Location: Almack's Assembly Rooms

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The Great Bazhooli looked upon the retreating form of his colleague, Constantin, as he moved with determined stride to ensure the safety of Elizaveta's carriage. The exchanged between those two led to no small frequency of amusing incidents. The Circus was like a big family, in some ways closer than one. Even with blood relations, cousins and siblings won't always get along; they didn't always have to. But when it came down to it, they looked after each other against any outside force that would seek to do them harm. The Russian Grand Circus greatly resembled that philosophy, the Sem'ya lived it as a Code. Still, he couldn't help but take some amusement with the whole affair.

Keeping a stern face the entire time it took Constantin to exit the building, Vladimir's impatient demeanor suddenly broke as the younger man exited the building. Lively mirth danced in his expressive eyes, and a smile cracked his features. The warmth of his expression seemed to transform his entire stance into something somewhat more jovial and informal. He shook his head, touching the fingers of one hand to his brow. "Ah, is good kid, da?" he mused aloud, shaking his head slightly. Sometimes he did feel like the father of a massive, intensely colorful family. In addition to his own, mostly all grown children.

All the same, his thoughts were to the safety of Elizaveta, and the heading off of any difficulties that may arise. This included attempting to prevent her from making a painful display of her Rusyn Trained Skills against those that likely just needed a little direction, plus the self control to refrain from precisely that, himself. Additionally, he was not overly a fan of the level of common speech directed at her. She was royalty of a tier above anything this British Empire could offer, excepting maybe the King himself. Her appearance at this set of Assembly Rooms had the same level of social disproportion as an Earl of this nation openly frequenting a portside tavern. Perhaps he should expect the people milling about to assume she was merely one of them, but from a different nation. Or maybe they were not fully aware of what a Grand Duchess was. Vladimir thought to cut off a potential problem, addressing Thalcona directly so that Elizaveta could continue her work in peace.

"You show big courage vhen you speak to Her Grace vith such familiarity, malyshka." He removed his leather banded top hat, holding it in front of some of his more obvious knives, and walked slowly between her and Elizaveta. Vladimir smiled warmly yet again, an expression of joy and openness that was excellently cultivated to win crowds and settle nerves. "Ne volnuysya, ah.. Don't worry. Is okay. I can maybe forgive. Mistakes are things ve all make, da? But if you must speak vith informal tone, you speak vith me. Am not as important as she; Grand Duchess requires time and quiet. Spiritual vork to do."

The Great Bazhooli took a step or two in Thalcona's direction, continuing with rising passion of speech. "Tell Vladimir, little darling, are you satisfied vith station in life? I know, men of country do not like vomen vith opinion or authority. I hear they do not give you same standing as brother here. Is for shame. You are striking lady, vith big, soulful eyes." He did seem to take interest in the younger woman's eyes, stepping forward another pace or two. "Can do vhat brother, fathers can do, da? Perhaps your courage, your beauty, you might become something more. Better than vhat vas thrown at you from birth."

His voice quieted to just above a whisper, most of the distance closed between them, but not as much as to seem overtly disrespectful. "In time, maybe can help vith this. But now, I vould take glimpse at vhat you could be, vhat you are." His face became a visage of smouldering, curious intensity. His own eyes sparkled, hazel green in the mixed light of the chamber as he gave a mischievous half-smile, "Vith permission, malyshka... I vould read vhat I can from your soft, chocolate eyes. Is called Chteniye Dushi, a gift others may learn for selves." He bowed his head slightly in deferred respect, maintaining eye contact the whole while. "May I?"

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_{"When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom."}

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Location: Almack's

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_{Note: GM's roll on Mary's quickdraw marks it as successful, and occuring before any other declared action.}

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"No, Lady Crypt." began Mary, still addressing her friend with formality. It was a nuance of her work, she was acting in her role as Dame of St. Sylvester. Much as a military man when on duty or under orders must refer to people in a specific manner, so did the knightly Apostolic Sister. She would soften, she would comfort, but later. In the meantime, there was yet work to do. "You fulfilled your part of the promise. I will not let you do this by yourself unless you ordered me away." Mary's voice lost some of its formal edge, becoming quiet and kind. "You don't need to do this alone. I'm here for you."

If there was one thing they had, it was time. With the Soulless gone, it was all the time they needed, and more. It still bothered Mary, and would for some time - the incident felt planned, from the onset to the retreat. All of it bent for a single purpose, she believed, but she could not supply evidence to support this, save for the coincidence that everything began to quiet with the Arch Graveolase was murdered. Not his burdens had become hers. She did not want this, would never had wanted it. But after the display of the more disappointing part of human nature from the Ton, she thought perhaps it was better that she have it than some self-serving buffoon who would wield the power of the office for personal gain. So she might have to secure her position as best she could from those who would attempt to take it from her, at least until a worthy successor to the previous could be established.

Those thoughts were shaken away by the presence of a man from earlier, the same man who stood mute, staring daggers at Virginia without notable blink or pause. Mary had no clue as to why he would be here now, his actions seemed to be an attempt at intimidation or something predatory, following the two women into an otherwise quiet section of Almack's while they shared a moment of restrained emotion at the death of a fallen friend. It seemed wholly inappropriate, and what with the strange happenings of the evening, Dame Hale was not set to take any chances with this brooding newcomer. Soulless, murder, the darkness of humanity, blood, death, all with the promise of more to come, and this man decides to insinuate himself into a personal task after staring uncomfortably at Virginia for an extended period of time while others recover from the attack. No. Something was wrong here.

The sound of metal clearing leather, dull and muffled, sounded from Mary as she knelt next to Mosi's unmoving legs. In the same instant, the metallic click-click of a firearm hammer coming to a fully cocked position could be heard; both sounds heralded the sudden and unexpected presence of one mother of a personal sidearm in the hands of the Apostolic girl, aimed solidly at the strange man as he moved way too close for her liking and offered to "Get Her". A chain rosary hung from her wrist as she held the massive howdah pistol on the man, giving a surreal image as she rose to her feet.

Her slight Scottish accent was readily detectable as she spoke to the man. In stark contrast to the weapon, her voice and face were absolutely seraphic, talking to him in the same manner she would have a child that had wandered into her cathedral, lost and in need of assistance. Her eyes, though; crystal blue and cold, unwavering, intense. She was a Knight of the Catholic Church, presently in a war for the souls of mankind. Her voice spoke courtesy. Her eyes did not. "Oh, thank you sir, but no. I believe the two of us can handle this without further help. Perhaps someone in the ballroom or out on the grounds could benefit from your unintroduced and presumptuous presence? Mayhap one who has not been given the privilege of your unblinking notice for the past half hour and has no reason to surmise that you have ulterior motive?"

Mary stood to the side, bringing her other hand behind her as if adopting part of a fencer's stance. The rosary continued to swing back and forth, reflecting little pieces of irregular light as a dull, metal pendulum. "We are well here, sir. Please return the way you came. I have no desire for further violence this night."

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

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Keystone

Location: Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern

Interacting With: The Group

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"Yeah, yeah. I 'eard ya on shit needs doin'..." grumbled Keystone, disappearing into the kitchen after Kyra and Sana finished their brief conversation that basically ended with him being given an unsubtle verbal kick in the pants to hurry up so they could all talk business. It wasn't a big deal for him; quite the opposite, in fact. This was a struggle against the Undead, including a couple of types he hadn't been exposed to previously.

If it came to it, deep down he was probably the most serious of their group about this endeavor. Not in the commanding manner of Kyra, certainly. That role in the group was filled. The big man could take or leave the concept of leadership. No, his usual role was the one he accepted with this group, the Muscle. His training aside, including his ability to roast the perfect larded pork haunch (complete with Fatty Endpiece), his worth came in his ability to put serious hurt on people and/or things, living or dead, armed or unarmed, human or otherwise. When it came down to it, that was really the lion's share of what he brought to the table. The ability to fight and more experience at it than most veterans or duelists many years his senior, particularly against the Undead.

But back to his skill set: He was being called upon to use it quickly and simply in his role as a culinarian, then move upstairs for frank and earnest discussion about how to best go about laying hurt upon their enemies. Keystone was very okay with this. So breakfast plans would have to change from Shire Pudding and Cabbages to something much simpler that took a fraction of the time. He summoned his obscure martial prowess to assist in the speed and coordination of his meal preparation, glad that no uninitiated eyes bore witness to the spiffiness with which he seamlessly melded his flawless body conditioning and his capacity to prepare simple food miraculously well.

A brief matter of a few minutes had Keystone emerging with a series of toasted bread bowls filled with scrambled eggs and crumbled cheese sprinkled atop them. It was a simple matter of cutting a smallish loaf in half and manually digging out much of the interior while a heap of partially beaten eggs firmed up over moderate heat. A little salt and he was done. It wasn't everything he wanted to accomplish, but Kyra was right. Their timetable for this was finite, as was their lifespan. Keystone had no desire to see either of them run out.

Anyone who was left at the table got a Bowl O' Eggs, but there was more than enough of everyone who expressed even a passing interest in a proper breakfast. The man himself picked up one of the simple but heavenly creations and began to consume it as quickly as the heat of the eggs would allow. "Eat up, then. Save a couple for the ladyfolk, if ya would. We gots an appointment what needs bein' kept."

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

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: Qasr El Nil Barracks

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Qasr El Nil Barracks

Aziza's actions, despite Reginald's bellowing threat of imminent flogging, gave him a moment of pause. At the very least, she asked permission before approaching Vera's unconscious form. It might be a short span of time before a Medical Officer appeared, and as long as Vera wasn't being crowded by multiple people of questionable medicinal training, Reginald felt some better about it. He supposed that people might have a greater sense of control over the scene unfolding before them if they played an active hand in it; it was human nature. Of course, it was also human nature to sit back and ignore something like this unless under direct scrutiny if they were under the impression that more qualified persons were nearby. It seemed some in their Fellowship had the exact opposite reaction.

The Lord Major nodded his acceptance of the proposal. "Inhaling a bit of distillate vapour shouldn't harm matters, I'd wager. Do continue - exercise caution, if you would." He looked also to the question posed by the starlet, Josephine, "Madame, I appreciate your zeal to assist, but at present, doing little (and from a distance) is admirable help, and you have my thanks for it." There was no malice in his voice, but a tenseness was there. It was covered mostly by a commanding personality, though it could not fully stamp out the old man's concern for the woman with whom he had a mutual claim as family.

It wasn't that Reginald didn't notice the timing of it all, either. Coupled with reactions from certain people, it seemed a message was being sent. As he was closer than most to the latest piece of interpersonal drama, he didn't immediately put it all together. But the usually astute Lord Major could tell that there was something going on with is nephew, Vera, and that glory-seeking American fellow. Perhaps he should ask into this when things calmed down. But not Peter. If there was something wrong with the advancement of his courtship to the Lady Munn, he should ask for a woman's opinion as he could better suss out a man's in that instance, being a survivor of a failed marriage of noble families. And if there was not, he did not want to put that kind of doubt into Peter. The man had gone through enough. But to faint? It provoked thought.

He had other things to speak about with differing members of his Fellowship too, before he got to the business of quartermastering and supplying their venture. But this would wait until Vera was a touch more vertical. And breakfast was over. But mostly Vera.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar y Keystone

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Location: Justice Asylum

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Caesar's uneasy feeling didn't go away with the limited conversation he had been in with Agent Tinder and the SWAT guys. Tinder seemed annoyed (or impatient) and though the fine men of the Justice Special Weapons & Tactics appeared to be curious as to the nature of their late orders, Caesar didn't seem to be fully buying it. Maybe these people were pawns in the game of life-and-death chess, but he believed that, under solid instruction from a higher-up, they would very likely turn their guns upon the three of them; Keystone, Cecily, and himself. This was a well lit hallway of death. Nah. Not today. Something about the suddenly cautious mannerisms of his employer made Keystone switch to the hyperaware. Cecily was doing her thing, and as long as she was okay, so was the big lug. Of course, the massive amount of potentially unfriendly guns bothered him as well. It's not like yo could punch sharpshooters to death at this range. In a calm voice, he asked his charge a quick, "Ready to get a move on then, Miss?"

It was difficult for the two Security professionals not to notice that Agent Tinder had mentioned something about coordinates being sent to his phone. He seemed adamantly set on finding out what was at said location, screaming about a hostage situation that one could only assume was a continuation of the incident. For this reason, it didn't seem strange at all that he was breaking their appointment on an official capacity. "Yeah, Tinder. Sounds like you have a busy night, too." He looked the man over for a second, unsure as to the guy's motives in this situation. Something seemed off, like a chunk of his puzzle that was missing or obscured. Well, first meetings and all. "I'm not sure how this works in Justice, but Miss Ashworth is needed back at the original crime scene. If you need anything, we will be making an appearance back there." Naturally, if they were leaving then Cecily had to turn over the reins. Or not, as the case may be. He never did mention how long that appearance would last, and who knows? The night might decide to get interesting when they got back that way. Caesar began continued back to Keystone and the Lady Coroner, ready to leave the scene.