Sigil

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

---

---

Caesar Gonzalez

---

Location: La Hacienda

---

---

"Yeah." replied Caesar, the single syllable both grim and distant. "Natasha's boss." He gave it a moment to sink in. "She's in the Roller Derby team. We know from M'hija that not everyone in Juno wants to keep the blood flowing. But most of them do. And if anyone's going to kill someone in a hospital..." Caesar shook his head. "Look, I don't know. I had our people back in Justice run a background on Natasha. Dr. Chang was the one who brought her to Justice. Now you tell me that Chang assigned her to you in the morgue. The Big Guy sent me her picture. I can't say anything for sure, Cecily. Natasha has been good to you, and helpful to me. Not to mention doing all this while sick. If she's caught in something, she might need help. If she isn't, all we're surrounded by pissed off Familia, and most of us packing heat."

Objectively, he wondered, how one might broach the subject, were one attempting to be polite about it. It's not like they could wander up, whistling, hands in pockets and nonchalantly inquire as to her status about being in, and/or under the thumb of, a global organization of conspiratorial women of power and influence, bent on nefariousness worldwide. Lucky for him, Caesar was rarely accused of being polite. But some subtlety was required. "Do you know where she is now?" he inquired. Malice was not in his voice, though it was not without a touch of concern.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

@Lady Amalthea

For purposes of organization and character juggling with the new RP starting up, I am taking this opportunity to place J. Keystone into Claimed NPC status. For the same reasons, I will be keeping Angel as a Claimed NPC, rather than submit her as a full character at this time.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

---

---

James & Thalia

---

Location: The Meet (Three-way intersection near the Hershall Norred Water Plant)

---

---

Astrid Hansen.
Bridgette Vinters.
Caesar Gonzalez.
Alicia Gonzalez.

Thalia repeated the names in her head, trying to reconcile with herself that she had already expected this. She had said her goodbyes to Astrid and Bridgette before, never expecting to see them again. Prima and Tio Gonzalez; she never got the chance to say goodbye. Still, she had braced herself for the possibility that they would indeed be dead. The numbers were simply against it. Her little quest around the Atlanta area was just to find news, confirm what she had already made herself believe. But it still hurt. This time, she didn't let it show on her face. Thalia was done crying for today. She glared over at James, fitting an expectant look on her face. He still hadn't answered her question. And Lola's comment about it earned her a smirk from the coldly burning half-latina.

The request for a drink took James by surprise, though it really shouldn't have, considering the family this young woman came from. "Ooh, um... you know, I ain't thinkin' we have..." he began, before the sudden appearance of another Whack-A-Mole from the tank, and the inevitable return of Gavin from the soft cover to the side of the road, muttering something about a barnyard orgy he'd rather watch from behind protective glass. He took the next couple of seconds to really absorb the snatches of conversation going on around him. James rather agreed with Ryan. His own eccentricities aside, he did feel like he was being slowly surrounded by crazy people. Well, his philosophy centered somewhere near "Join the madness or get swept away by it" or "because fuck it, that's why". They hadn't started trying to kill each other just yet, and that was just about the closest thing to making friends as he could expect nowadays.

Meanwhile, Gavin's presence gave Thalia concern. A tall country boy appearing from a ditch beside the road, carrying a sniper rifle, gave her a distinct lack of ease. Apparently, Lola was very much put at ease with the stranger. Thalia did not share her optimism. Instinctively, she raised Astrid's shield to cover her face just below the eyes, the bottom rim jutting out more than the top. He knees bent and feet stepped wide, taking a charger's stance while her machete moved fluidly behind her, remaining solidly motionless, parallel to the ground upon which she stood. It was the fighting form of a Fairburn Shieldmaiden, something unseen in the area for too long. "Fuck is this, James? Sniper in the goddamn woods?" That rifle looked familiar too, but Thalia thought it prudent to impale one issue at a time.

"Yeah?" retorted James, not particularly wanting to lose control of the situation but unwilling to let people he just met walk all over them. "Y'alls the muthafuckas came to this party in a TANK. Y'alls also the muthafuckas left a man in y'damn tank with a cannon aimin' down the road. You gonna blame us for havin' a ace in the hole with a pissed-off Gonzalez runnin' around? Y'all must be crazy!"

Thalia looked from Gavin to James, over to Lola for some expression of confirmation, then a quick glance back to the truck. Mentioning the name of her father's people did calm her a bit. At least this man was aware of their reputation (if not hers specifically), reinforcing the notion that they were on the level. Her machete and Astrid's shield lowered slowly. "Alright. Fair 'nuff. But are we going to expect any more friends of yours today?"

James breathed a quick sigh of relief. "Naw ma'am, that'd surprise the hell outta me."

---

---

Ash & Thana

---

Location: The Meeting

---

Ash regarded the question soberly. If he were being completely objective, he might say that yes, he was indeed okay. This was par for the course, considering the world they lived in now. But it might not be the most emotionally honest thing he had ever said. As the Hordebuster rolled over the highway intersection, he responded neutrally, "Yeah, sorry. Stress. Trying to get my Game Face on." he permitted himself a chuckle at his expense, "Not how I expected my morning to go. I'm glad you're here."

"I really don't think this was how any of us expected this day to go," Thana said as she glanced over towards Ash. Reaching out she placed her hand on his shoulder for a minute, giving him a bit of a reassuring squeeze. Letting out a breath she let her attention face forward again and her hand fall away. This was NOT how she expected today to go that was for sure, especially after the night before. That had been bliss, this was starting to border on hell. Leaning forward she tried to get a better view of the road as they continued, it was harder and harder to see the tracks in certain spots because of the melting but the patches that were left, it was as clear as day thankfully.

As the truck crossed over the highway, the pair found themselves coming up on a high school to the left of the road. Bleak, with low fencing around the campus. It stood as a testament to the fact that the city of Newnan used to be a prosperous and populated area. It also stood as the last series of buildings before trees dominated either side of the road. Ash noticed Thana peering ahead and gave comment. "Unless the tank changes direction just after this school, there's no point in looking for tracks." he began, cracking the window just a bit to better hear outside. "Past the next road, there's not a whole lot of places to go."

Quirking a brow Thana leaned back in her seat. "I doubt a tree would stop a tank," she mused. Sure there might not be a lot of road to turn down different directions, from what Ash was saying at least, but that didn't mean the tank didn't chose a more off road route. Might have actually been one of the reasons it was still active after all this time. She had lost plenty of vehicles over the years because of down bridges, washed out roads, or even pile ups on the highways she just couldn't get around. A tank gave a person a lot more options.

"One tree, no. A couple thousand of them might be an interesting speed bump. Up a little is a water treatment plant and a reservoir lake. Civil engineers don't like putting this kind of stuff out in public view." Ash slowed the truck, coming up to the next intersection. Last chance to see if the big piece of rolling armor took a turn elsewhere.

Thana shook her head slightly. "With the ground composition in this area, the long freeze we just had, the drastically rising temperature and the quick thaw will have made even Georgia clay weak and would make uprooting even a two hundred year old pecan tree like snapping a toothpick to a tank," Thana explained as she watched the road. Turning she looked over towards Ash and smirked a bit. "Dr. Thana Martin, Botanist."

Ash arched an eyebrow as he looked back at Thana. He was an engineer. It was what he did. But his knowledge revolved around military and civil application. He was not a scientist. "Well then, Dr. Martin, I bow to your scientific expertise." there was the slightest hint of flirtation in his voice. "Let's hope they don't know that, either... Hey, do you see where the tracks lead?"

Looking back towards the road, she sighed a bit. "That way," she said pointing ahead. Resting back in her seat, she adjusted her cap before pulling out one of her side arms and checking it just in case.

Nodding grimly, Ash heard the confirmation of his least favorite direction just then. "Okay. Let's get to it." Ash followed Thana's example, chambering a round into his .45 and engaging the safety before slipping it back into his hip holster. He shifted the vehicle into gear, and slowly pulled forward. This was the last opportunity for the tank to have gone elsewhere. Coincidence be damned. Ash breathed out a long sigh and drove the Hordebuster forward. The grim nature of the man approaching what he believed to be the end of the path was belied by the movement of his hand, reaching out to squeeze Thana's hand.

"What the hell..." Thana muttered gruffly as she leaned up sightly in her seat and draped her arms over her knees as she watched something coming into view. "Do I even want to know?" she half asked herself, half asked Ash as the tank came into view. Parked in the middle of the road as if it had broken down or out of gas. Hopefully that was it but the way things were going she seriously doubted it. Especially when she spotted the truck and a bunch of people.

It was a very interesting scene to drive up to. Nobody was dead. Nobody was fighting. There were three people that he had never met, and four that he did. One, a younger woman, stood over the corpse of one of the Dead holding a machete and a shield that was very familiar to him. He forced himself not to react to what he was seeing. "Yeah. Copy "What The Hell". I've got a lot more questions."

Seeing Gavin strolling over to the main group from the side carrying a rather impressive rifle made her wonder even more. "Yeah, seems like it is time to pull over Sir and say hello."

Wordlessly, Ash nodded his agreement. He brought his heavily modified dump truck forward, bringing it to a rolling stop behind the even more heavily modified tank. He lowered his window the rest of the way and opened the protective grating covering it, even as his other hand strayed to his firearm. Using the diction of a trained military officer who had been exposed to some very nerve racking events, he semi-casually inquired of the Newnan expatriates, "Are these guys friends of yours?"

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

---

---

Российский императорский цирк

(Russian Imperial Circus)

Sister Mary Ignatia Hale & The Great Bazhooli

_{Страшная католическая девушка & Vladimir Alexandrov}

---

---

In Vladimir's excitement to attend to the guests of the Sem'ya, he was overlooking one of his own people. Such a thing could be forgiven readily by many without the gift of Rusyn Sight, or Tretiy Glaz; unfortunately Vlad was one such individual blessed and cursed with this ability. He knew full well what a sudden vision could entail. However, he didn't seem to notice until the younger man's difficulty until it was drawing to a close. The second he did, the more senior Bazhooli gave out a mighty "HA!" holding his hands out wide and listening intently to everything that Constantin had to say, eyes open wide. It was a little overly dramatic, performing an action for respect and quiet when it was mostly already being given. But that was The Great Bazhooli; nobly dramatic in every situation that did or did not call for it. He made a mental note of what his fellow performer had said, then repeated it aloud in summary.

"Haze. Lace, boomstick, thistle. Much pain; someone hurting. Da?" He rattled the words off, attempting to commit to memory by simplification. "But vhat does this mean?"

Meanwhile, Mary was trying to say a farewell of some kind to Sister Lazarus. It was ultimately pointless. When she got an idea or course of action in her head, it generally took a Bishop or higher to sway her away from it. She was a formidable old Nun, Sister Lazarus. She would likely outlive them all. Mary shook her head and returned to the conversation fully, just in time to hear Vladimir rattle off his list. "I cannot claim to know the proper interpretation of your visions," she responded humbly, "but in Scotland, we used those as symbols of marriage."

It was one of Mary's last memories of her native Stirling, a fine gathering featuring those elements on behalf of her brothers. Just like Almack's, it ended in blood. Mary's eventual path to the Vatican started there. It was a chilling thought that another such marriage would be associated with pain. But Mary was no interpreter of visions. She had to admit to herself that her own experience colored her judgement, making the association into something it might not be.

Vladimir was intrigued. Not so much as to slow his planning for the festivities for the evening, but enough to make comment. Unfortunately, the comment was directed more at the suddenly absent Sister Lazarus, despite the fact that Vlad was actually moving to help steady Constantin. "She has dusting? Vill never understand nuns..." He placed a hand on the young firewalker's shoulder, clasping firmly to show support. "Haze. Lace, broomstick, thistle. Pain. Do not know, is not good. But you rest now, da? Ve must see vhat is, and vhat can be done about it." He hated it when the visions were unclear. Such things were often worked out in hindsight, long after the chance to affect events for the positive. It was a helpless feeling, sometimes worse than not knowing at all. Maybe others in the Circus with the Gift would detect something, or have greater insight. But these things were often unreliable. More information would have to be gathered, and he didn't know where nor how to start.

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

---

---

Keystone

Location: Deymins Tower (2F)

Interacting With: Huh?

---

---

Keystone blinked away his momentary confusion, unsure as to exactly what had just happened. Now that the most immediate danger had passed, he tried to mentally go through the steps that he had messed up so badly, yet had done many, many times before. He took a step back, visualized the attacker, and began. "Right then... Ho! Ha Ha! Guard! Turn! Parry! Dodge! Spin! Ha! Thrust!" Yup, it all seemed to be in order. Still, it just didn't make sense.

Luckily, the Dwarf had stepped up to the challenge and picked up Keystone's momentary slack. Keystone probably owed him something, even if the issue could be resolved by nice, inexpensive words. He sidled up to Nor, and spoke quietly. "Oi, thanks for that. Got no bloody idea what 'appened back there. Went through it in m' brainbowl, still makes no bloody sense..." Keystone shook his head. "Sod-ups like that can get a bloke killed, y'see. Just wanted to tell ya thanks, finishin' up the job and whatnot."

That painful bit out of the way, he turned his attention back to the problem at hand. Doors. Not opening. He didn't want to get in the way of people with skills that did not involve blunt destruction, but stood at the ready were it necessary. "If'n other options ain't workin', lemme know. I'll take the direct approach." He smiled, patting a fist into his other hand. But before smashing the doors into kindling became the order of the day, he wanted to give the more subtle a chance to handle it. Keystone was then, as he often was anyway, the last resort option.

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

---

---

Foy Coiffeur

---

Location: Newhope - Lady Luck

---

"Hmm..." mused Foy, his hum becoming the verbal equivalent of a child's squeal of glee at being released in a candy store. "Indeed, by fine sir. And despite these more pedestrian surroundings, I retain confidence that this is one such locale wherein Sin is commonly brokered commodity, ho ho!" His saunter up to the bar alongside his dearest friend turned into a polite step back as Jahosafat spoke in his usual grandiose manner to Anisa and Dorothy. Mostly Anisa. He took this opportunity to order. For him, it was a sharp rap upon the bar and the utterance of, "Three fingers of whiskey in a tumbler, my blue-collared fellow. Neat, and fast." Foy generally spoke less to persons who were paid to serve him.

It was not his manner to interrupt the initial conversational salvo, particularly when issued from a fellow Gentleman of Standing. Such an opener, when properly enunciated, set the tone for the remainder of the evening. While Jahosafat took care of this pre-debauch ritual, Foy made mental note of where everyone else in his group was located. Of course, the very notion of this being "his group" left him feeling momentarily woozy. Foy was officially a hired gun on a Dragonfly vessel captained by a Browncoat. Such odd times, indeed. But Foy mentally digressed; he was looking for the crew.

Atticus had very clearly been dragged into a quiet room by a prostitute with compelling upper body strength, apparently. The Captain and Dorothy were present and in front of him, as well as the enigmatic Dr. Moreau. Harper and Daphne seemed to be approaching the bar nearby from the side. Mostly, they were still clustered around one another. Whether it be happenstance, psychological need of the crew to stick together in unfamiliar surroundings, or the easier solution that these were the only spaces available, they were mostly all in a sort of staging area, hanging in formation until an appropriate target presented itself for individuals to attack. To this end, Atticus had gone rogue. Lucky bastard.

Then Jahosafat turned his attentions back to The Esteemed Mr. Coiffeur, offering up a toast in the manner that only a proper Farradayan could. With style, with vigor, and with a highly developed vocabulary. As he spoke, Foy's glass of neat whiskey arrived, as if on cue. One hand dropped a folded piece of scrip (intended to cover his whiskey and Jahosafat's cognac) and almost simultaneously snatched up the tumbler, just in time to take full part in Jahosafat's toast. "Indubitably and assured, my most dapper of compatriots! To us!" he took his own, drawing taste of whatever passed for whiskey in this place. He turned to one of the people tending bar, offering critique to the house's spirits. "I say, this tastes very much like what I used to provide my family's housemen on special occasions. Nostalgic, in a particularly mediocre capacity." He tapped his glass, signaled for another (though he had barely touched his first) and turned to the rest of the crew. "If you would be as kind as to excuse me, I must attend a matter of personal urgency."

Foy threw back the remainder of his first glass just as the second arrived. He tipped his cap to the crewmates assembled, swirled his glass, and began moving with the utmost of posture and propriety toward the card tables, or more appropriately, toward women of a certain type near them. Optimistically, he called back behind him, "To quote the immortal words of some general or another from antiquity; I Shall Return!"

---

---

William Harper

---

Location: Newhope - Lady Luck

---

The acceptance of Harper's offer to buy Daphne a drink was met by a small, polite smile. "Excellent," he vocalized in a low, melodic tone, and began ushering Daphne to the nearest open spots at the bar proper. As it turned out, they were very near to most of the rest of the crew. In a way, it was fortunate. Harper used to be a bar-hopping moderate drinker as the occasion called for it, but the events of recent years had brought marked changes in the man. Anymore, he wasn't a huge fan of being surrounded by people he didn't know, especially if they had varying levels of intoxication. Internally, it made him jumpy. His exterior remained as collected as ever, however; another feat mastered because of the events of the past few years.

The two of them reached the bar to be immediately set upon by the service staff. They seemed to be fully on top of things. Harper placed his order in the same calm but assertive manner. "Please make sure the young lady gets what she needs on me. I will have a Ginger beer and bitters, and a single whisky. Decent whiskey." As the drinks arrived, he looked to Daphne. "I don't mean to be rude, but I owe the Captain a quick "thank you". I'll just be a minute, but then I'd love to hear about your experience flying with these people."

Harper picked up his big mug of frothy, amber liquid and glass of whisky, temporarily relocating a meter or two down the bar. Foy had just left, and it created an area of open space that was much quieter for his absence. He stopped next to Anisa and set the glass down in front of her. "Ma'am?" he started, his voice showing a little of his cultured, Core World upbringing, "I appreciate you allowing me the first opportunity to pilot Prometheus. She's one hell of a boat, Ma'am." Absently, he pulled a bit of fluff from her hair and discarded it upon the floor. Raising his mug as to toast, Harper looked Anisa in the eye and gave a sincere, "Thank you, Captain."

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

---

---

Caesar Gonzalez

---

Location: La Hacienda

---

---

To begin with, Caesar was a little confused as to why this young lady would be asking him how he was doing. He was usually the one who took care of others, in his own stoic, providing manner. She had been shot recently, not him, though she was taking it like a champ. But then it occurred to him: This was an occasion where he should be compromised emotionally. And in truth, he was. He had vented some emotion earlier and was not due for it again for a while, such was the odd way of his psychology. He would likely do so again, privately if possible. A glimmer of understanding touched Caesar. For the first time in a long while, he was supposed to be the one comforted. It felt strange.

"Yeah, as good..." he started. Caesar knew what the last couple of words were going to be in the sentence, and it was one that he hated. No, he couldn't bring himself to say "...as can be expected..." and not despise himself. It was a bullshit answer made to placate or show defeat. Instead, he changed the subject just a little. "Mostly okay, Cecily. Thank you for coming down here. I know it is not how you planned the next couple of days. And I know that it's partly for your protection so things cool down for you. But thank you for being here." Though gravelly, there was sincerity in his voice.

Then his phone went off. He took it was a blessing to break the tension, and gave it a quick look. There was a message from his Acting Director, Keystone. His face hardened as he read it. "What do you know about Dr. Amy Chang, Cecily?" Some of the people in Juno didn't like the way things were going, according to the recording Alicia left them. This might be a pivotal moment, else someone else in his house had a lot of explaining to do.

---

---

J. Keystone

---

Location: Queensguard Industries R&D, Security Hub

---

---

Keystone grunted in frustration. The hold music was still playing, he really didn't want to speak with anyone in marketing right then anyway, and he may have uncovered a potential difficulty in the whole mystery/"seek the guilty" mission that his boss was enmeshed upon. The only thing that kept him listening to classic rock tunes issuing from his phone, indicating that he was waiting for a representative, was that he didn't really have anything else to do right that second. He wished that he had something tangible in front of him that he could hit. Keystone could solve many problems with hitting, and had done so for many years quite effectively. But this wasn't really one of those times.

Unless he could find out who was in charge of their phone network back at corporate HQ. He had a special beating reserved for that guy.

Quietly, he resolved to hit the gym for a little while, just as soon as he was done with this call. Could take a while, though. So he continued to wait patiently. As the minutes progressed, he was made privy to a number of points of background that the new Tech people were uncovering. Most everything else was standard, but the devil was often in the details.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

---

---

James & Thalia

---

Location: The Meet (Three-way intersection near the Hershall Norred Water Plant)

---

---

Thalia wasn't sure, but the thought she heard the name of another of her people mentioned, this time by the shifty looking fellow back at the truck. Her brain didn't even want to consider those words at that moment. But there was Astrid, confirmed by the strange man in denim overalls and cowboy hat right in front of her. She knew this woman. Fought alongside her. Learned a lot about living out in the wild from her, among others from their settlement in Fairburn. She wasn't as close to Astrid as she was her battle sister; a tall, foulmouthed blacksmith whom Thalia hoped was not just mentioned right in front of her. It would have made sense, though. Those two were closer than friends. She suspected closer than sisters. If Astrid was dead, there was an excellent possibility that her favorite sparring partner was gone, too. Thalia just couldn't bring herself to think, let alone speak her name right then.

At mention of the name, Bridgette, James seemed to instinctively know that it was damned well likely to trigger something more in the young woman in front of them. He dropped one hand behind himself and made a shooing motion, hoping that Ryan would take the hint about bringing up the names of more dead people this girl might know personally. This happening right now went well beyond bad luck or painful coincidence. It seemed like some sort of powerful, otherworldly force was having sport with this girl, torturing her in such a way that made James believe that she and Ash might have a lot in common. He had never mentioned having a little sister, but hell, with the coincidences he'd seen lately it wouldn't have surprised him any more. James stepped to the side a little and looked back at his people, then gave a surreptitious nod to the treeline and thumbs-up, blocked from the newcomers' view by his body. "I ain't gonna stop ya, girl. You do you."

Slowly at first, Thalia walked forward. She responded to Lola in a low voice, almost a whisper, "Yeah, Lolz. I got this." It felt a little strange stepping behind James's position, almost like intentionally walking behind enemy lines with the enemy staring right at her. She felt exposed. But she needed to do this for her trainer - give her the clean death of a warrior. Even though technically she was already dead, Astrid deserved to go out fighting.

She locked eyes with the two at the truck as she passed by, careful to keep a wide berth from all of them. Thalia wanted no chance of a slip or a miscommunication resulting in a firefight right then. If she suddenly felt the need to plug the entirety of them, she really wanted it to be a surprise. As she neared the corpse that used to be her friend, Thalia removed a folded entrenching tool from her belt with her left hand and retrieved a cutlass style machete from her back with her right. She gripped high up on the Etool, making sure her hand was covered by the wide, flat shovel blade. To her credit, it made for an interestingly effective improvised shield. She struck the flat of her machete against it, trying to draw the attention of the familiar Zed.

Finally, Thalia began to speak. "Lo there do I see my father. Lo there do I see my mother and my sisters and my brothers. Lo there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning." It wasn't her religion, really. Hers was a little darker. It wasn't her culture either, though she lived as one of them for a time. It was Astrid's belief, though. And it did seem to draw her attention, even in death. Though in fairness, it could be that she was now the nearest living body making noise.

Thalia moved in, taking a textbook sword-and-board stance with her hardware. She looked Astrid in what was left of her eyes and completed the prayer for her. "Lo, they do call me, they bid me take my place among them, in the halls of Valhalla, where the brave may live forever." She slowed, allowing the Zed to close the last few paces toward her. When the first gnarled hand reached out to tear into her, Thalia bobbed low and caught its forearm with her Etool, throwing it out wide. Her other arm worked simultaneously, bringing the point of her curving blade beneath the jaw of the dead creature and up into its cranial cavity, not stopping until it struck bone on the inside of its skull. It was like turning off a switch.

Before the weight of Astrid's corpse tore her blade from her hands, Thalia snatched it downward and out of its decomposing mooring. It slumped to the ground face first in front of her. Thalia put her entrenching tool back onto her belt and knelt beside what was left of her friend. There were no more tears remaining to her. Everyone lost people. She lost hers a while ago and just didn't know it. Setting her machete on the ground next to her, she began the work of removing Astrid's shield from her back. As she worked, she spoke. Her voice was all business, colored by her New England origins.

"Ah right, James. It's James, right? Okay. Thank you very much fah telling me what I needed to know. I'm not going to ask why it is that everyone I know in this part auf the world came to your town and died. Shit happens. But I did heah the name Bridgette. I want you to tell me how. Just Band-Aid that shit. Then I want you to tell me who's responsible. And if you have anything stiff to drink, I'll be your best friend." she glanced back at Lola, quickly adding, "Second-best friend." She wrestled the strap from around the leather bodice, freeing it at last. She studied it for a couple of seconds and picked her blade back up, then looked back to James. "Ain't got all day, Chief. Reader's Digest."

James just sighed. "They volunteered to help some folk up the road a ways. Bring them back to our Doc. Ambushed, we guessin' by them same assholes from Peachtree City. Whole lotta dead people with 'em. Bree got herself bit a bunch, Astrid put a axe in her while her blood was still hot. She got bit too. Ol' girl left to die on her own terms, but I reckon you done did her a service."

"Okay." she replied, eerily calm. "Okay. I don't know about you, but I kind auf want to kill some people. Oh, not you guys. Now, how about that drink?"

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

And posted for Keystone.

@Dragoknighte, Nor is up.

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

---

---

Keystone

Location: Deymins Tower (2F)

Interacting With: A2 - and bringin' the pain!

---

---

The sudden advance of the undead minions within their metal casings did not come as a shock to the stalwart and experienced warrior. No, quite the opposite. He had been battling the likes of the Undead for what seemed an eternity, despite never having special training for the purpose nor originally any especial hatred of them, past what the common man had for things which went against the natural order of the world. He had begun to develop such a hatred, however. Be it the existence of these things or the Powers That Be which seemed to constantly throw the slab of martially trained anger and physical power known as Johnathon Illium Keystone, the big man had a deep, bubbling resentment for something. That or gas. One could never tell until something erupted, and every god in whatever pantheon you hold sacred help you if you were around for either.

It came as no surprise then, when Keystone launched himself at the remaining dead guy. Cynebear had already taken a massive swipe out of one, and the poor, dead bastard was still standing. Well, kudos on the reanimated lackey, but it would not be upright for very much longer. He covered the distance with an amazing feat of athleticism, his massive fist raised into a vicious overhand right, footwork... um... Ok, I've got this. <ahem> Footwork sliding into a, ah.... damnit. Ok, I had this.

So, the fist was up like so, and the other arm was pulled back into a fist-in-socket position, or not because an overhand right uses a different stance than most martial arts that uses a fist-in-socket position as a follow up. So, maybe Keystone's mastery of multiple styles of martial arts, both Oriental and Occidental, led him tumbling into the pugilistic equivalent of a brain fart, thusly locking him into an odd state of confusion. He glanced to his fist, looked to his feet, seemingly half-oblivious to the thing in front of him. No, no... I've got this. High front stance, move that fist over there, and... Ok, he's got nothing. Hopefully the next guy's got him, because Keystone has to get his head back in the game if he's going to continue today.