Sigil

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

@Lady Amalthea

Hi! Um... I'm requesting permission to alter Harper's CS to account for the fact that he had to ditch his Alliance stuff and replace it with Camilla's gear. Also, he's not quite an Alliance pilot anymore. Our budding technologist has gone through a lot of changes since escaping the Halo, you see.

🦄 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: (Outside of) Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent Park)

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Vladimir barely heard the demand of Sister Sophia, though the question she shouted echoed in his mind as well. Elizaveta was still in there someplace, and he could do nothing at that moment to help her. Vlad opened mouth to respond to their resident Nun's question, but all he had was uncertainty to offer. Not that it mattered, the moment that he tried he began to cough up an ounce or two of lake water, painfully expelling it from his lungs. In his fervor to save Elizaveta, his own difficulty had gone quite unnoticed. Immediately, his eyes went back to the lake, still unnaturally icy in great swaths despite being at the beginning of summer in London.

The tense moment passed, with Vladimir looking over the otherwise still surface, exhibiting much the same level of emotion as Sister Sophia. At least in this, he and Veta's tutor were of one mind: Vlad loved the young woman as a daughter, and her death would pulverize him.

Suddenly, a swelling of water rippled along the surface from below, followed by a great, pale head with bright eyes and imposing, pointy teeth. It was Myshka. And God love the massive kitty, he was clutching dress fabric in his teeth. Vlad was already running. He pushed past any gaping onlookers, adamant to get to Elizaveta in a straight and rapid line. The only time he even slowed his sprint was when he entered the water, though it was purely because he was bound by physics. He fought back against the pressure of the water, moving himself forward and shoving against any remaining ice out of his way. By the time the water was over his waist, Vladimir was finally able to wrap his hands around the still form of Elizaveta Romanova, taking much of the weight off of Myshka to bear.

"Врачи! Принесите Целителей СЕЙЧАС!" he screamed, demanding the attention of a physician or other such healer immediately. He was not sure how his own Rusyn training of Krasnoye would help in this situation as he had never attempted it on a drowning victim before. It might be worth a try, but first, he needed to see if she could breathe on her own first. Vladimir hauled her onto the beach with strength born of desperation, depositing her as gently as he dared on her side upon the ground. "Breathe, Veta. Breathe..." he growled, thumping her back with the heel of his palm and using one of his knives to open any clothing which might restrict her chest from fully expanding. Tears were already forming in his eyes. His little Veta was close to dying, and he could do nothing more for her. "BREATHE!" he shouted. Begged, even. His feeling of helplessness was almost palpable.

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_{"Go forward bravely. Fear nothing. Trust in God; all will be well." -Joan of Arc}

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Location: London Streets

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The dull trod of the dapple grey stallion's hooves turned to a sharper clack upon the brick and stone roads of London. Mary reined the noble beast along the walls of St. Etheldreda's, passing what appeared to be a tavern attached to the outer fortifications. Mary nodded toward the attached structure, now sparsely occupied in the late morning hours. "Ye Olde Mitre." she mentioned to Adam, simply for the sake of pleasantry. "The Church operates a Public House, of all things, because we cannot count on the generosity of parishioners as most other churches must. Profits pay for many of our day-to-day expenses, Adam. Of course, we also count on our strawberries and saffron for this. The strawberries in particular; not to appear proud, but they were penned about by William Shakespeare over two hundred years ago." The errant Dame considered her statement, and followed with a delicate question, "Are you literate, Adam? Do you know how to read?"

Adam shook his head slightly, he would have answered the sister if it weren't for the fact he had a mouthful of food right then. The longest stretch of their travel was to take place on Holborn Road, directly in front of the church grounds. Mary reined Cassius gently, turning them onto the cobblestones of the thoroughfare headed east. With a look of determination, they steadily made their way up the block, nearing the first major intersection in their path at Chancery Lane. Adams eyes kept darting about as they moved through the city, he had never seen it from this height.

Traffic seemed lighter than usual, given the time of day and considering that this was London, the capitol city of the British Empire. Perhaps it has something to do with the phenomenon from earlier that morning. People started late, business was put off; there had to be some several of those affected that continued to keep indoors following the event. Naturally, that assumed the condition that whatever it was, it influenced an area greater than just the Ely Palace and St. Etheldreda's. For all Mary knew, they just had a momentary lull in horse and foot traffic. As they approached the second major intersection along their path, that being the gently forking Broad Street, realized that she hadn't eaten since about noon of the previous day. "Might you hand me some of that bread, please?" he requested, keeping an eye about her surroundings.

Nodding Adam tore off a piece of the bread and held his hand up slightly for Sister Mary to take. "It's wonderful," he said as he finally swallowed what he had been chewing. He had been steadily putting food in his mouth since they had left the church. The boy knew they would be eating with the lady he met yesterday but it didn't stop him. Adam hadn't had real food, not like this, in as long as he could remember and he knew right then no matter how much he ate of what little they brought with them he would still have pretty much an empty stomach come time to eat with Elizaveta. Growing boys had bottomless pits as stomachs, this one had an empty one times three that probably had never been filled in his life.

It was an interesting part of town. Residences of middle and working class mingling with neighborhood businesses, many small shops and the like. Broad Street formed a loop to reconnect with the main roadway, forming a carfax - a joining of four roads - with Holborn Street on the east, Oxford to the west, and Tottenham Court Road to the north. It was a lovely intersection, full of life and industry. People walked from errand to errand, workers unloaded stock. A brewery stood on the corner of Tottenham and Oxford; a stout man standing outside the front wearing a sharp, dapper suit, passing out samples of their latest fine ale in hopes of drawing clientele. He even offered a sampling to Mary as they sauntered by, though the look on his face changed abruptly as he noticed the heavy chain rosary on her belt. "No thank you." she responded, waving him away. "Though you should send someone to the Olde Mitre..." Mary called as she passed, "...fifteen minutes down Holborn, sir." She motioned back the way they had come, smiled politely, and continued past the sunny, bustling carfax. From the last fleeting look of the beer vendor, there existed the possibility that the man valued lucrative trade over general standoffishness with Catholics.

Adam and Mary spent the next period of time between major intersections taking a small meal of cheese, bread, and strawberries. Mary had cautioned that they were going to join the Grand Duchess at the circus for luncheon and not to eat too much, though circumstances were such that a minuscule of indulgence could be tolerated without crossing the boundary into gluttonous behavior. Adam wasn't worried, he didn't even know how to be gluttonous, he just knew how to be hungry. His frail form showed he knew that horrid feeling all too well.

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

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Keystone

Location: Deymins Tower

Interacting With: The Group

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Keystone took in a deep breath and blew it back out slowly. This was how it started, generally: The Beginning Of The End. After the big, scary, possibly dead guy threw bits and pieces of their army at whomever Keystone happened to be with at the time, prompting a response from all parties involved, blah blah blah, everyone dies. Well, screw that. He wasn't about to deal with the same scenario again. Not this time. There were at least two or three people in this group he'd be honestly choked up over if they got the still living flesh stripped from their bones.

"Right, my two coppers?" offered up Keystone, eyeing the tower and the door, "I ain't seen a wizard what leans toward death magic ever work decent glamours, so I'd lay money says this's on the ups. But a new door onna old tower's got m'interest all pointy."

Keystone slipped his hands into his coat pockets, withdrawing them as fists adorned with cold, ebon metal - his pair of knuckle dusters he referred to as The Black Knuckles, examples of unparalleled Dwarven craftsmanship applied to an exotic alloy. While not any more effective against the Undead as they were anything else, they possessed a few interesting qualities due to their material, one of which was the capacity to quickly sunder objects that they were applied to with martial force. The door would suffice.

The broad man leaned his head to either side, eliciting a series of impressive popping sounds from his neck. He raised his hands into a pugilist's guard position and inquired colorfully, "You want I should knock, then?"

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

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Captain Crowe & William Harper

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Harper had the notion that he was completely alone inside that ship. It took him just a little by surprise when the magnetic docking clamps let go of the newly christened Prometheus, though logically, that would indicate that the final papers had been signed and they would be ready to depart as soon as they wished. All he had to do now was take in the feel of the vessel. It kind of felt like freedom.

What he didn't know was that Anisa was already on board, waiting for her moment to startle her pilot half to death. When she appeared, seemingly solidifying from the shadows, and mentioned that they were ahead of schedule, he very nearly leapt out of his skin. Perhaps it was an overly cautious instinct from his very recent years, but it was a little unnerving that he didn't notice her board the ship, apparently shortly after himself. The more relaxed and mildly unhinged Harper tightened into something a little more professional as soon as he heard Captain Crowe, though when she suggested that he take the Prometheus out for a test spin, just the two of them, a semi-deranged grin began to part his features.

"The reactors are powered up and diagnostics are almost finished. Would the Captain of the Prometheus care to ignite the engines, Ma'am?"

Anisa glanced over towards Harper and noted the expression on his features. She hadn't noticed she had caught him off guard, far too busy taking in the bridge at the time when she came in. Yet now she wasn't sure if he was about to go serial killer on her or just feeling like a child on a holiday morning about to open presents. She went with the latter considering she was feeling the same way. It wasn't everyday a Captain was able to purchase a new ship free and clear. A slow grin crept across her lips as her eyes locked with Harpers. Stepping over Anisa set in the key sequence and the engines ignited, coming to life.

"Shiny," she said as she took a seat in the co-pilots chair. Sure she was the captain but Harper was her Lead Pilot now, she wanted to see not only what her ship could do but what he could as well. "Show me what's she got."

"Yes ma'am." Harper responded with restrained enthusiasm, already moving to sit at the helm. He could feel the hum of the engine through his hands, its return to life coursing through him like adrenaline in his blood. His eyes scanned the sensor console, noting local atmospheric traffic. Clear enough. Now was as good a time as any to get this machine in the air. Harper shifted the ship's two main thrusters to vertical takeoff position and dialed up the power. Coupled with basic grav assist, the Prometheus lifted gently into the sky. As they rose, Harper put the ship into a gentle rotation, giving himself and Anisa a sweeping, panoramic view of Newhope.

"Engine is operating optimally and we are fully open to hit the Black. Once around the planet then, Captain?"

Anisa's face broke into a sly grin as the corner of her mouth curled upward. It was a rare thing for Anisa to look happy in any respect but once again it wasn't every day that a captain got a new ship. Lacing her fingers together she leaned up a bit as her head turned slightly to face Harper. "If you push this gorham ship enough we might get two rounds about the planet before wes need to be back," she said in a cocky voice as a single brow rose. "Like I said, show me what she's got. I mean really got," she added as she leaned back in her seat and got comfortable. She wanted to see not only what the ship had but what Harper had.

Harper recorded their present planetary coordinates and confirmed the beacon signal from the Newhope Docks. When he took this grand machine off for his joyride, he was going to want to be able to locate their landing point without having to pull in someplace and ask for directions. It just wouldn't be fitting for their first outing. Naturally, it wasn't the most dignified thing in the 'Verse to seize upon the first section of clear sky and punch it, realigning the thrusters horizontally and pushing the Prometheus from a passive hover into a directed charge, parting the skyways around them. The ship screamed skyward, and for a moment, there was only the three of them: Harper, Anisa - and Prometheus.

To begin with, he kept it at moderate altitude and watched the landscape change from urban/residential to the as yet untouched wilderness of grass, water, and mountain. He slid the vessel back and forth laterally, occasionally dipping low to buzz the ground, only to funnel more power into the grav system and take them up high. He followed a generally straightforward course, until he realized with a smile that he was still only using atmospheric thrust. Still smiling, he turned to Anisa. "You might want to buckle up, Captain. The boot's about to arm wrestle with local gravity." He returned his attention to the console and visuals, quickly moving one hand to take his own advice. He clasped the belt at his waist and the two over his shoulders, and sat back, waiting for his moment.

Anisa smirked a bit but nodded and slipped on her restraints, locking herself into place. Seemed that Harper was finally going to get serious with this little test fly they were doing. In all honesty she had already taken the Prometheus out for a test flight before she purchased it. What type of captain would buy a ship without a test drive? One that wouldn't be captain for long that was for sure. Yet she hadn't pushed the vessel as hard as it could go, she knew that. Sure she had piloting skills but piloting wasn't what she did on a day to day basis. She needed an actual pilot for that. She had wanted to bring Daphne along but her attitude as of late was less than optimal. The girl had a few things to learn before she would be handed over another ship of Anisa's fully.

The moment came as they were approaching a rock face, a grey, craggy barricade designed by Providence to destroy anything that was stupid enough to fly directly into it. One might have heard a sly, slightly crazed chuckle issue from the ordinarily stalwart man's lips. Granted, it wasn't the last possible second that Harper pulled the ship into a steep climb, but it might have seemed like it. For a second, all that was visible from the windows was mountainside, but the next, all one could see was sky. He pushed the Prometheus as hard as its atmospheric thrust would allow until at long last they broke free of Newhope's atmosphere, revealing the infinite expanse of star dotted blackness stretching beyond the perception of man or technology.

"Someone's enjoying himself," Anisa said with a chuckle. It wasn't something she did often and it didn't even occur to her that she had yet to actually laugh around Harper. This was a first. Then again, this was the first time she was just allowing herself to enjoy what a ship could do in a very long time. Last time had been when she bought the Vengeance, such a long time ago. Maybe this was something she needed to do more often.

The light from the planet below was still illuminating the edges of their vision, and while Harper took in the sight of it all, he realized that he couldn't just keep going, no matter how much the idea appealed to him. Slowly, he reoriented the ship parallel to the surface of Newhope and kept going just outside of the atmosphere, with the Black above them and the planet below, glowing white-blue like a vast, illuminated ocean. Now he could take full advantage of the craft's engine, now that they were unencumbered by atmosphere. Seamlessly, Harper spurred the Prometheus to maximum speed. The clearer view of the planet below began to race by as they traversed land and weather systems at rapid pace, circumnavigating the great, spinning globe of Newhope.

"Now that is quite the view," Anisa mused to herself as the watched the scenery go by. Yes, this ship was perfect for her and her crew. Whoever that ended up being. Right then she didn't really know anymore but from the looks of things and how Harper was acting flying Prometheus, he was at least going to be part of it. Leaning back in her seat Anisa's mind went to Jackson. She missed him. Maybe it was good that she had decided not to try to go back and retrieve the Vengeance. Captaining that ship just wouldn't seem right without him by her side.

Harper brought the ship down to the lowest point possible without actually touching the edge of the denser atmosphere, then inexplicably turned the engines to idle, cutting power to the thrusters altogether. The Prometheus, still coasting at near top speed, dipped into the stratosphere and was immediately flung back upward, skipping like a stone upon the water. Once, twice, three times Prometheus skipped upon the thickening air of Newhope before Harper re-fired the thrusters. He chuckled to himself. It was a silly, childish thing to do, one that got many newbie pilots grounded or kicked out of the Alliance training program altogether. Damn it was fun, though. And speaking of fun, after that third jump, Harper piloted the ship into a high loop and descended back toward the planet's surface.

Noting the coordinates on his display, Harper brought the Prometheus in line for their jumping-off point. "We're coming up on the Docks in approximately two minutes, Captain. Orders?"

Coming out of her thoughts of Jackson and the time they had spent together on the Vengeance, Anisa snapped back into captain mode. All joy she had let slip through the cracks vanishing from her expression as she looked straight ahead. "The Retribution should have been picked up by now by the buyer. Set Prometheus down at the docks so we can get her loaded." Her voice was still and even as she spoke. "Your room will be the second on the left from the Bridge as you exit, across from my quarters," she added out of the blue. Seemed Harpers position as her main pilot had just been solidified considering he would be bunking alongside the Captain and her second now.

"Aye aye, Captain." His earlier slip into hysterical glee was tucked aside, covered by his more dominant persona of the dutiful officer. Harper cleared his throat and reduced speed to something more fitting the circumstance of coming up on an inhabited, urban area. He picked up the beacon leading them to the Newhope Docks and followed it in, sending a request to land to their control tower. When he received confirmation, Harper looked at the dock number and location with some disbelief. "Strange." he said aloud, motioning to Anisa, "I already landed a boat in that exact location today. Go figure."

The Prometheus descended onto the space in the Newhope Docks very recently occupied by the I.A.V. Retribution, powered down, and opened its main Cargo door. Time to introduce the crew to their new home.

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Dr. Dorothy & His Foyness

Fu... sion... HA!

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Dorothy took in Foy's advice and mulled over the options. There was little sense in ducking into a shop that sold books or toys. A bleeding woman would both stand out and be unable to find much in the way of aid there. The dress shop and the leather shop both would have something that could be used to bind a wound. Overhearing some well dressed women making comments about how they hoped the dressmaker's shop would stay closed, Dorothy frowned.

"Does it strike you as funny that a dress shop is closed this time of day?" Dorothy asked. The leather maker's shop was open and almost seemed cheerful. But the dress shop would have both shelter and something to bind the wound with. Dorothy hadn't spotted the blood on the ground in the leather maker's shop. "I reckon we should start with the dress shop."

"Without question, dear woman." Foy's voice was quieter. He glanced around the crowd for a second, trying to ascertain if anyone in particular was watching the pair. They were a bit disheveled, Foy in particular, and hoped that they were not given too much in the way of scrutiny. To avoid being any more conspicuous than they already might be, the wiry gentleman stepped in close to Dorothy, even going so far as to place a hand on her waist in a manner that suggested more intimacy than they felt for each other. His quiet voice continued, "Do not mistake my intentions, Doctor. My druthers are that we be viewed a tourist couple rather than ardent trackers, at least for social eyes at the present." He put on a bright, smiling face and drew his posture tall, pointing out toward a couple of the busier merchants as if to indicate willingness to take his "ladyfriend" to these places.

Despite Foy's explanation for his actions, Dorothy couldn't help but blush. It had been a while since a man had placed his hand on her waist. She did her very best to appear relaxed and at ease with his company, allowing herself to be in close proximity to him, smiling even.

"Were any shop closed up tight during a day of fiscal activity, I would pose query." he was still smiling, still pointing, though now at a different store he had no actual intention of visiting. "But if madame would surreptitiously view the open-air purveyor of hides and furs directly across the thoroughfare from the Dressmaker's... One might see a smattering of trampled sanguineous fluid. If I might hazard a suggestion? I shall give a cursory perusal of the Leather Goods Shop, and you pry into the Dressmaker's business." Foy's voice returned to his normal, cocky levels. "Come along then, my little Plum Dumpling! What say you? Later on, I shall take us for some sugared butter shavings! Ho hooo...."

Dorothy blinked for a moment. She felt sorry for any girl that Foy actually was trying to woo, if he called them a little Plum Dumpling. "That sounds shiny," Dorothy replied, barely stomaching Foy's fake flirtations. It was taking all the stamina she had to not say gorrham it and to just head off by herself. But it was the most efficient way to catch the spy, so she'd tolerate it for now.

Foy was no fool, and a generally astute observer of the human scene. Dorothy's nuances of something bordering on actual revulsion were apparent to the man, but he was beginning to delight in this improvised back-and-forth. "Oh it positively is shiny, is it not, dearest? I must admit, I'm finding your outing quite invigorating! Despite my misgivings, Nummy Muffins, I'm having quite the occasion!" he laughed, stepping back toward the open Leatherworker's Shop. "Just give a mild clamor if you need me, yes?"

A tip of the cap back to Dorothy, and Foy edged into the shop. He inquired of the ragged man inside, "I say, sir... I'm looking for something in the way of a Madison or a McKay, possibly even an Oxford style shoe, if you've it. Foy did actually want, nay, require a new pair of shoes right then, but it also served to open potentially lucrative conversation. He pulled out his wallet, then motioned to the stains on the ground. "Oh I say, is someone injured?"

The older man looked up and over towards Foy, his eyes giving the man the once over and his brow cocking as he noticed the man had one shoe on. "I should be asking you the same gorham question," he said motioning towards the double socked covers extremity. Setting down the needle and thread he shook his head. "It's none of your concern," he added as he tossed a rag down over the blood and stepped closer to the dapperly dressed gentleman. "Let me see your feet," he said motioning towards the sock covered one.

Having Foy wander off by himself did wonders for Dorothy's move. She had nearly vomited a little in her mouth at Foy's continued use of pet names. A brutal scolding by Anisa was almost preferable to Foy's so called charm at this point. Straightening herself up a little bit in order to look a bit more respectable, Dorothy headed over to the dressmaker's shop. The place was clearly shut down and Dorothy put her hand on the door knob, testing it delicately to see if it was unlocked or not. Entering with a bit of stealth likely would have been best. But if it was locked, she'd just have to pretend to be just another of Newhope's tourists and get entry that way.

"Ah yes, I did stumble into a bit of misadventure, shopkeep, heartily explaining requirement for new footwear!" Foy bent down and peeled off the unfortunate pair of socks from his foot. He used the opportunity to take a closer look area surrounding the spotting of blood on the floor (as the blood itself was now concealed by a rag), curious to see if this was an unrelated injury sustained by the haggard man, or if this could have anything to do with their present activity. "Though to be curt about circumstances, my merchantly fellow, sufficiency presents itself with an black pair of accommodating size 11 regulars." Nevertheless, he brought his foot up as the man requested. "Curiously, old fellow, I happened to spy a young lady this way just earlier, had pressing difficulty walking. She possessed the most alarmed look upon her face; I do hope nothing amiss transpired. I don't suppose you witnessed where she'd gotten off to?"

"Ah, and might one purchase socks here?" he inquired with typical nonchalance.

The dressmaker's was locked up tight. Dorothy had surmised as much, but she didn't want to be that one person who didn't test the door to see if it was open. But with the curtains drawn and the door locked, it only made her more suspicious of the dressmaker's shop. Glancing around, she noted that Foy hadn't emerged yet from his own attempt at finding the spy. She couldn't help but wonder if he knew how to pick a lock, since she sadly did not. One main idea was coming to mind at the moment: she could always try to shoot the lock and see if it'd open that way. But Dorothy figured she'd refrain from that for another few seconds, just in case Foy was on his way.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@rivaan

He is Schrodinger. Schrodinger is a very impressive cat. You should have seen the circumstances of how he came into Newnan.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway

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Location: Exterior Building 1

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It was a difficult time, no doubt. Thana seemed to understand this, but it was obvious that more was on her mind. "Thank you, Commander Martin." he said respectfully, "Your keys and walkie will be delivered here momentarily. I'll debrief you later." It was an interesting notion, a lead picking their own Second. There was no rule expressly forbidding the practice, it just hadn't been done before. It made sense though, Kris had been working alongside James for a while now. She knew a lot of how he did things, not to mention that it would ease the transition for the Agricultural staff.

From this point on, Ash would have been content to wait patiently in awkward, depressed silence for the next chunk of time until Thana's belongings came to her, but a voice prompted him away from it. His eyes widened in utter surprise and his head snapped around to he source of the dulcet, sarcastic words, before narrowing with suspicion. It was Alicia, of course. His Alicia, or used to be. That fact that she was dead notwithstanding, there she was, right in front of him.

Ash opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. This was something, but it couldn't be Alicia. Ash had put a bullet into her skull after she came back home to him, dead as stone.

This isn't me, Captain.

Ash hadn't heard from him in a while. Okay, so maybe he was crazy. Ash's problems came from guilt, among other things. Alicia's death put him over the edge, into something far less than wholesome. That voice just seemed to stay with him after the fact, a portion of himself that was the cold, professional soldier. If that voice echoed in his head, it meant that he felt the need to be on the defensive. Or he really was crazy. Like, deep end crazy. It didn't seem to make any sense, though - Ash's lapse of sanity was due to a need to punish himself for an inability to protect those he claimed under his care. Sally died of natural causes. She lived a full life, had purpose toward the end of it, and passed away helping others. Miss Sally lived and died well, if such a thing were possible. Ash was sad that she was no longer with them. He did not feel guilt.

But that "permission to come aboard" line? Priceless. Ash had to suppress a chuckle. God damn, he was crazy.

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Black James(!)

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Location: Near 545 Corinth Rd, Newnan: In the woods. (Not far from the Coweta County Water Authority)

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James was just about to pull the rolling door back down when he saw The Man. There was no mistaking the sight of him, even in passing. The forlorn scowl of a man who had lost much and performed unspeakable acts; a man who had killed in numbers upward of hundreds in his many decades of sanctioned extermination of so much human cholesterol, clogging up the arteries of an otherwise safer and more just world, not to mention his dedication to carving out the squishy vitals of corruption in his own organization without sanction from his superiors, some of which he personally put to the knife.

Caesar Hannibal Gonzalez. He was a dead man. And now he was staring at James. The man grunted and nodded at him; nothing more than an affirmation of James's presence, at least for now. Then Gavin passed between the two of them, completely obscuring Caesar from his sight for less than a half second. It was all that was needed for the grizzled Mexican to totally vanish from sight. He must be having the beginnings of a breakdown, or some adrenaline fueled hallucination. I mean, it wasn't the first time he'd killed someone, even in Newnan before, but it was pretty damned emotionally charged. This... made no sense.

"Aight, someone please tell me y'all just saw that."

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Location: North Of Newnan (Veterans Memorial Park - Corner of Temple Ave. & Jackson St.)

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The flat apology and quiet session of pouting was noticed by Thalia, but she was done with the conversation. Getting into an argument and making noise while outside of the tank was counterproductive to her strategy of keeping her ass alive long enough to see to her own long-term agenda. The old soldier simply wasn't worth it. He did, however, get Lola her new toy. Such an act probably earned the man a lift closer to his piece of civilization, even if it probably shouldn't have gotten him her powdered cocoa mix, damnit.

Luckily, it was time to go. The sooner this part of their journey was over, the better. Lola's request to "snow the coals" was heard and acknowledged with a strained, "Yeah, on it." and slid off of the side of the tank. She slipped her entrenching tool from her side and unfolded it to a fixed position with a quiet clack. She dug it into a drift of semisolid white snow and deposited it into the grill above her, hurling it in an ungraceful arc to plop into the orange-red coals, only to hiss and sputter as they died away. Just to make sure, she smacked it down with another bladeful of the cold, wet stuff.

Thalia folded her e-tool and holstered it back at her side, then clambered back up the side of the tank. She closed the top of the grill with an annoyed swat and glared over in Alexander's direction, wordlessly examining the man for a second or two. Silently, she gathered her bag and spear, carefully dropping them into the great metal beast below. Thalia entered the Gunner's hatch, settling herself in the seat and closing the portal back above her. She banged on the wall twice, signalling her readiness to haul ass ASAP.

"So Lola, when are you going to show me how to use one of these things?"

🦄 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

"What shall you do? Ah dear boy, I haven't the foggiest at the mo, you see. We rather divvied up our little roles, at least initially, as of last evening." Reginald regarded his nephew, a man obviously skeptical of generally everything that the Lord Major had just said. Reginald tried to change tactic, at least until he could get Peter on board with the less believable aspects of recent events. "Consider this jaunt we are undertaking more of an independently financed archaeological expedition. Never you mind the motivation for doing so, at least for now."

"For myself, I have volunteered my services as Quartermaster; likewise I am attempting to obtain appropriate transportation for the lot of us. Though I seriously wonder precisely what some of these persons bring to the table..." He shook his head, thinking back to the previous night. There was a lot of drama, much in the way of confusion. And the camel spider, lest he forget the camel spider that had somehow taken up residence just above his head while he slept.

A thought occurred to him, which he shared with Peter, "This reminds me, pursuant to our discussions last evening, I have put in a request to have you assigned to the Barracks, old boy. I believe that the War Office should be sending you an offer. Accept or decline as you want, naturally."

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: Private Hangar in Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico

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Caesar shook the Federale's hand. They stood there for a few seconds before the grizzled Mexican spoke. "Sí. Diles que no estoy aquí por negocios." They looked at one another for another moment, and then the uniformed Federale gave him a quick head bobbling nod and left without further word. Caesar gave him a regarding look as he left the hangar, presumably to return to his superiors to inform them that he had no intent to eviscerate a few dozen people during his time in Monterrey.

Then the pilot braced him for the inevitable; Alicia's casket was being brought out of the plane. The hearse door opened, thanks to an attendant, and the pilot opened the cargo hatch of their plane. As the casket was wheeled across the hanger, passing directly by Caesar, the old man could not help but shed a tear or two. He wept, but his face remained as granite. It was a quiet pause of time in that hangar with only the sound of wheels carrying a long, steel box that housed the remains of a once vibrant and powerful woman over to a standard hearse. Caesar took a step or two in the direction of Alicia's remains as it rolled by, but stopped short of committing himself to it. It was not time yet.

One of the back doors of the Town Car opened, and a smooth, rolling baritone voice could be heard from within. The voice spoke in almost perfectly accented English, "It's been a long time, Caesar. You look good." The man to whom the voice belonged stepped out of the back of the stretched vehicle, dressed in the obvious garb of a Catholic Priest. He stepped over to the trio of Natasha, Cecily, and Caesar. The elder Mexican seemed to barely note his presence, not until he came within striking distance. His gaze shot over to the man, and he grunted slight to affirm the Padre's presence.

The priest shook his head, continuing to speak to them all despite Caesar's gruff reception. "Bienvenidos a Mexico. Ladies, Caesar... All of the arrangements have been taken care of. We have rooms made available for you, if you decide to take our hospitality. He looked over to Caesar again, this time with a knowing look. Addressing Cecily and Natasha, he continued, "Forgive me, we have forgotten introductions. I am Father Benicio Gonzalez, Church of La Madrina Inmaculada. Do you lovely ladies work for Caesar?"

The door to the hearse clicked closed, seemingly snapping Caesar out of his lull. The priest noticed, and looking over to the man, said, "I'm so sorry, hermano. We loved her."

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J. Keystone

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Location: Justice Airport

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Well, traffic sucked. Like, sucked fully out loud, and they weren't even out of airport yet. The kind of suckage that really only occurs when you want to be someplace in a hurry, like say, oh... when one is anxious to get a new team to their worksite to begin immediate efforts to secure a computer system and initiate a investigation, say? Then decides to leave an airport during a sudden onset of atypical rush hour. That kind of suckage. At the very least, it gave Keystone plenty of time to get his parking slip stub and exact change together as they inched forward to the one toll booth, so as to leave the least amount of aggravation for all parties behind him. Not that they would notice and/or care, but it was something.

The moment they were clear of the toll booth, it was like a window opened, venting away most of the excess car fumes and providing a much better driving experience. It was still a little tight, but soon Keystone was able to get onto the main road and put a little distance between his new tech team and the Justice Airport. In his Ramcharger, the group already seemed to be getting to work, establishing a secure network with their devices inside of his vehicle and exchanging information with one another about their client and location. Aside from asking the occasional, mundane question, they mostly kept to their own shorthanded conversation. It was well enough for Keystone. He was content to merely get them where they needed to go, and provide muscle support in case any of the existing tech people on location got a little difficult. Of course, looking at these new people, there probably wouldn't be much in the way of difficulty.

Keystone glanced into the rearview mirror, accidentally locking eyes with the blonde lady in their group, the one who looked like she was gearing up for a brawl earlier. She smiled at him, briefly, before inquiring in an accent unknown to him, "What? I look like someone?"

He didn't get the opportunity to speak. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a smallish yellow building made of solid concrete with outdoor seating. It was emblazoned with the words "Mr. Burrito!" in stark green and red lettering. Unwilling to hit a returning exit or pull a U-ey later on, Keystone cut across traffic with a squeal of tires and a slew of profanity. When the vehicle came to a complete stop, it was more or less parked in a designated parking space facing Mr. Burrito's exterior walk-up ordering window, near an unoccupied outdoor table. "Right then! You lot're 'ungry, yeah? On me. Go shit'ouse on it." He exited the vehicle and strode up to the window.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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_{"Go in peace. The journey on which you go is under the eye of the Lord."}

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Location: St. Etheldreda's -> London Streets

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St. Etheldreda's Church/Ely House

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Thinking over the events of the past couple of days, this moment was the only one wherein Mary felt as if she had accomplished something meaningful. It was not a great heroic act, nothing world changing or the like, though it was ingrained to her original training within the Church. Simple charity, and the warm feeling of making a difference in the well-being of a child. If the Grand Duchess was correct, a child with great potential.

Sister Alma was being, well, Sister Alma - carrying away the remaining clothing to laundry, only to pause momentarily, switch direction and toddle off, presumably with something else in mind entirely. Mary raised her hand up and called to her, "Sister Alma? Sister..." but she had already committed herself to whatever course of action had taken hold of her facilities. Mary made the sign of the Cross in the air with her hand, already raised. "Our Lord love and bless you, Sister Alma." she said with a small smile. St. Etheldreda's just wouldn't be the same place without her.

Adam looked up at Mary and giggled a bit. "She's silly, I like her," he said innocently as he glanced back down the way that Sister Alma had gone.

"Come along, Adam. Let's get you that breakfast." Mary led her small charge the last few steps into the kitchens, his hand in hers, and lifted him up onto a nearby stool. "Sisters?" she called to the Cloistered women working and gossiping inside, keeping a cheerful voice for the sake of Adam. "Good morning, Sisters. Have we anything already prepared for our guest to have for breakfast? We have a big day today." In a more normal voice, she inquired, "And perhaps two or so more of those wonderful pies for later? I can spare a quarter farthing if necessary."

Sitting there with his legs swinging back and forth, Adam looked around wide eyed. Though the kitchen was not opulent, it was probably more food to have access to than he had ever had. One of the sisters just looked over to Mary and nodded a bit. There was some breads and strawberries. As far as the pies went the nun excused herself, saying she would fetch some after she had handed Adam a plate with some food. Another nun slipping the boy some cheese to go with the rest.

Mary slipped a coin on the counter for the pies. Ordinarily it wouldn't be necessary, but St. Etheldreda's made a tidy sum of money by selling its internationally famous strawberries and products made from them. The lack of Catholics living in London meant that they could not rely on tithes or regular sponsored events to raise funds for their expenses. Even the salaries of the clergy were subsidized by the Vatican. Mary was better off than most living in London, and could afford to compensate them for the occasional pie. Or three. They were worth the extra exercise and confession of gluttony on Sunday. Of course, they had other ways of raising money, but they were most famous for their strawberries.

She bent her knees until she was on eye level with Adam, "I'm going just up the corridor to grab some things. We're in a hurry, so make sure to get that wrapped up and we'll eat it on the way to the Circus, okay? I'll be back in two minutes." Mary leaned her halberd on the wall next to the door and stepped outside. She poked her head back in for just a second, "But do try some of our church's good bread before I return. It is excellent."

Adam nodded with a mouth full of food already, giving her a tight lipped grin as he nodded his head excitedly. He was trying his best to keep the food in his mouth so it wouldn't spill out everywhere or leave crumbs all over himself.

Laundry was a few meters away, past a storeroom down the hall. She needed only to grab two things she had left in there the previous day. Stepping inside of the room was like walking into a sauna; the proximity of heated water and cool met in mid-air, forming a layer of steam across the top of the room and condensation upon the walls. Were it not for the attention of the women who labored here, Mary might have expected moss to begin growing along the edges of the room. She nodded briskly to the laundry attendants and quickly located the object of her search among the neat stacks of clean and dry. It was a bundle of white cloth, folded and bound in coarse twine. A tag attached identified it as hers, reading "M. Ignatia" was also a prominent clue. She undid the bow of twine and pulled away the white cloth, revealing her favored robe. It was long and white, hooded, and trimmed with a row of large, red triangles. As much a traveling coat as it was a robe, it seemed to fit Mary's personality: Pure, tough, classy, and edged in crimson. She immediately put it on over her cassock and brought her hood up, allowing her fiery red locks to spill around her shoulders some, and looked to the other item in the bundle. It was her Knight's cloak, the one she wore the previous evening, easily recognizable by the circled, equidistant cross of her Order stitched into the strong black fabric with silver thread. She rewrapped this and returned to the kitchen in a rush.

"Ready, Adam? There's a storeroom just over here next to Laundry you may change in." She took back her halberd and smiled expectantly at the boy.

Hopping down from his seat, Adam looked over towards Mary bright eyed. "Okay," he said as he rushed off with his things to change. Wrapped up in a bundle next to where he was sitting was the food that was packed for them, as well as several pies boxed up and ready. It wasn't long before he came rushing back out, looking much better than he had in his rags and it was clear that someone back in laundry had taken a cloth to his face and hands. They were scrubbed clean but a bit red. "Ready, can we go now?" he asked excitedly.

"Of course we may." responded Mary. "If you would please, carry the food for us? Thank you, Adam. Oh my, and you look very presentable. We must get you some sets of your own clothing, and a good hat besides."

"Really truly? My very own?" Adam asked excitedly. He had never had clothing meant just for him.

She busied herself with re-appropriating the twine that was around her laundry bundle, tying it around the boxes of pies for easier transportation. She draped the folded cloak over her forearm and utilized that hand to take up her halberd. The strong, nimble fingers of her free hand curled around the twine fastening the boxes of luscious fruity pies together. Thusly laden, she walked out, into the hallway, calling for Adam. "Follow me, child. We are headed back to Archives to pick up my papers, but just after we are going to the stables. You get to meet my warhorse, Cassius! He is a very handsome animal, Cassius. But we must hurry. One does not keep a Grand Duchess waiting."

With that, Mary began leading Adam back to the office of Sister Lazarus to recover the writ from her Order. Adam followed her quickly, falling in step beside Sister Mary as they made their way to see the sourpuss sister. Sister Lazarus looked over from her desk as the two walked in. "Here you are," she said as she tapped the writ on the desk before her head went back down and she went back to writing.

Mary set down the stack of pies to free up a hand, deftly taking her writ up from the desk. She spread it open as best she could with her thumb and forefinger, just enough to confirm the contents of the paper. Satisfied, she tucked it into her sporran bag and hefted up one of the strawberry confections from her bundle. "And here you are." she said, setting it down upon the corner of her desk. "Thank you so much for your haste, Sister Lazarus." Mary picked her stack of pies back up and resumed her walk to the stables, carefully ushering Adam out of the office and letting the door slowly come to behind them.

The day's mixed light filtered through the larger shrubs at the edges of St. Etheldreda's gardens, under which the pair of them walked with determined stride. Mary looked up to the sky, trying to determine what the weather may hold for them that day. She couldn't quite tell from her vantage point, not yet, anyway. Perhaps that would be a little more forthcoming after they got out under fully open skies. That would have to wait, as Mary and Adam passed under a large stone archway that led them from the church grounds proper and into the bailey, which contained (among other things) the common stables. "Almost there. Just across the yard."

The doors to the stables were opened wide, as it usually was during the hustle and bustle of the day. Mary strode confidently back to her reserved pen and greeted its inhabitant with a warm smile. "Adam, this is Cassius. Cassius, Adam." said Mary, introducing the two. The horse was a fine, dappled grey stallion with black socks and mane, truly a majestic animal for the newly anointed Dame Commander Mary Hale. "Cassius has been with me for a while now. He's as good a knight's horse as any I have witnessed."

Mary set down her load of pies, weapons, and textiles, then entered the pen. She lifted her saddle from the side of the railing, taking careful but urgent steps to ready her horse for travel. Saddle, tack, saddlebags, tethers, reins, and the few belongings they would be taking with them over the day. Mary needed a little help; she asked Adam to hand her the occasional item, but after a few minutes' time they were riding out of the front gate of the Ely Palace with Adam sitting in front of Mary, holding onto the bundle of food. The blessed steel of Mary's halberd rose above them like a vorpal, Catholic flag as they departed the grounds of their cathedral, en route to Regent's Park.

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

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Keystone

Location: Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern

Interacting With: Sana, Kyra

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"...Right..." expressed Keystone in a single, lengthened syllable. He wasn't precisely sure what was going on with the rest of the people in the group, and he wasn't in a frame of mind to get into a lengthy discussion about it. He did have an idea that his role in this nigh suicidal, self-appointed campaign against evil leaned more heavily toward beating people and/or things into very messy oblivion significantly more than exploring bug innards, no matter how helpful it might turn out later.

Noting that the rest of the group was anxious to get a move on (and particularly thankful for it), Keystone scooped up one of the insect's light-emitting organs and called to Kyra and Sana, "Ey, 'alf a bloody minute then! Gotta grab somethin'." and dashed up the stairs.

His pack was still in his room, or at least the room that he and Sana cohabited the previous night. It seemed untouched since he saw it last, thankfully, and he needed a few things from inside of it. For starters, Keystone carefully opened a sturdy box and snaked out a smallish piece of textured paper. The smell of fine black tea wafted from it before the lid snapped back down. He quickly utilized this piece of paper to wrap the bug squishies into a tight package and slipped it into a pocket. Secondly, he recovered two decent, utilitarian knives in simple sheathes and slid them into his coat, one on either side. Lastly, he took up one of his bandoleers of kunai.

In younger years, Keystone had never considered that learning how to throw a knife would be a life saving skill, let alone that he would take to carrying more than one when preparing for a pitched battle. Yet here he was, equipping himself with no less than nine. His one large, lightly ensorceled seax at his back, the bandoleer of six Shou weapons, and his two occidental blades in his coat. They did tend to round out his usefulness in a fight. He was no expert at it, but he was proficient enough to put the pointy end into the target he was hurling it toward most of the time. Keystone had a feeling that this time, his skills as a Pugilist would be more useful to the group, but it was good to be prepared.

Before he left the room, he pulled on a pair of fingerless leather gloves and flexed his hands. It was one of his little rituals. Then the situation became a little more real to him. They were making preparations to go on the offensive. This is when, in his experience, people started to die. Keystone's thoughts drifted toward Sana. He wasn't sure what he felt for her, but he certainly didn't want her to be ripped from this life by the Undead, as he had seen so may others. Keystone shook his head, trying to clear it. Sana was a big girl, she was tough, she was talented. As long as he did his job and she did hers, they all stood a better chance at getting out of this alive. "Head clear, old boy. You do yours, yeah?" he said aloud to himself.

Briefly, Keystone considered bringing his coils of rope and grappling hook with him. They were exploring a tower, though, not the caves. Unless the tower joined up with the caves in a lower level, anyway, or they had to rappel from some point on the tower. In the end, he decided not to. This was an exploratory run. In and back before dark. If they came upon something that required a rope and hook, or anything else for that matter, they could come back and resupply.

It might have been a little more than a half a minute, but it wasn't very long at all before Keystone found his way back out of the Crossed Swords and with the group. He nodded his head and began to pop the knuckles in either hand, one at a time. With a steady, concerned gaze, he walked over to Sana. In a gravelly but quiet voice, he inquired, "You good, Sana?" She had been out of action for a while, and had only gotten a decent meal and single night's rest since receiving treatment. He was a bit concerned.