Sigil

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Thalia Carmichael

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Location: Near Eden, Golf Course (Treeline -> Copse of trees #7)
Skills: Stealth, Survival

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Singing? Really? If that guy had a death wish, that was his issue. If the old man threatened to give away their position because he couldn't get a tune out of his head, Thalia would be more than willing to help him give up the ghost. Quietly. As was her forte. At least it was generally her forte; she couldn't quite avoid the crunch of her hiking boots in what remained of the snow along the golf course she was currently crossing. For work such as this, she wasn't a fan of snow, either. Snow left clear tracks and made noise. Hopefully, they could get this messy work over and done before it became an issue. Thalia had gotten what she really hoped was an "all clear" from Thana, and had decided to make her move.

The ground was open. Not good for someone like Thalia who preferred cover and shadow. Her machete would be of little good across a field, so she moved it to her left hand and pulled her new Beretta. Considering where she had picked it up, she had to assume that it belonged to the man who had told her about her uncle and cousin's deaths, James. Well, for a man to carry it as a primary firearm, it had to be reliable. Full mag, chambered round, and right about then she really wished that she had a silencer. But for now, the angry young lady in the ashen skull facepaint began to make her way to a copse of trees nearing the middle of the course. The route she took put as many spots of trees between herself and their intended destination. Clear lines of sight were a liability if one attempted a quiet attack.

Of course, the concept of Quiet was a relative thing, especially considering the crunch crunch crunch of snow and the hazardous conditions that its melting provided. The attempt to "ninja" across an open golf course was already difficult to the extreme, and she had to assume that the opposition was looking for them at every moment, every sound was ten times louder than it was. While Thalia wished that she had the forethought to get together some sort of camouflage, the thought of it was a little absurd with their timetable. Hopefully Sun Tzu was correct when he stated that a fast and clumsy attack was better than a slow but well thought one.

This sentiment was echoed as Thalia found herself slipping on a packed bit of ice and bellyflopping into the snow in front of her with a flat sound resembling the kicking of a half inflated basketball. Partly melted snow seeped into her jeans and into her shirt anywhere her leather jacket was not covering. Were she not prone, she would have facepalmed. With what little dignity she could muster, Thalia picked herself up and sprinted the remaining open distance to the central group of trees. With any luck, the Zeds scattered loosely around didn't take much notice. And if they did, she'd rather knife one out behind cover than out in the open.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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J. Keystone

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Location: Queensguard R&D Industrial Complex: Receiving
Skills: N/A

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This was most certainly not on the menu for today. Today was supposed to be simple: Get the Ramcharger worked on (he wondered how progress on that was going), speak to MSS's Marketing and/or Legal departments about expanding business to accept multiple smaller accounts, hopefully to maintain a company presence in Justice if all hell broke loose and they lost contract with Queensguard, and run day-to-day business. The appearance of the Seattle Tech Team was a godsend, though it did tack on more responsibilities to his day. Right at that moment, however, he was damned happy to have the presence of people he could trust. Especially as part of his standing orders included getting information on their contract holder's associates.

As the first of the vehicles pulled up, Keystone looked to his temporary partner, quietly asking, "Y'good for this, Vinters?" but immediately feeling stupid for it. Every member of Machete Security Solutions, even the techies, were rated in security procedure and proficient in at least one firearm type. This one looked like she could handle herself. Actually, Keystone wondered for a moment if she was really a Tech specialist; the way she carried herself. The cynical, annoyed look she shot him as he posed the apparently dumb query gave more doubt to her presence on a highly electronics and computer based team, as was the middle finger extension she provided promptly thereafter. Yeah, he was pretty sure that she'd get along with his friends from London, who should be arriving later that day.

But first, business. Keystone spoke into his comm, addressing the team back in the Hub in muted tones. "Right, 'ere what I need: Name list an' pics from the Juno Roller Derby team, yeah? Run them past the bints n' tossers comin' up, face recognition or some such, I know the old man didn't spare no expense on you lot. Long as you're at it, check an' see if Lady Queensguard's got a bloody guest list. Don't be quiet, neither. Ash direct for security reasons. Then try an' get it on the low if'n you're able."

A thought occurred to him, which he also communicated to the Hub, "Make sure we collect water glasses and such from the meetin' room, after. I want info. Treat the room like a fongin' crime scene. One o' these people might be responsible, direct or indirect, for killin' our 'Licia. Got me?" He couldn't imagine that a suddenly diverted meeting would be anything other than a clandestine gathering of generally awful people, which he might partly confirm based upon the overly biased number of females in attendance. "Follow m' lead, Vinters. Keep an eye on the crowd an' watch who gets nervous."

The pair of them stepped out of the doors into the receiving area, flanking the doors. Keystone got a report back about a basic floor team in place, prompting a simple, "Right, then." He cleared his throat, addressing his partner in a voice loud enough to be overheard by the groups approaching the doors. "Right, the retinal scans are back functional in the Corridor, yeah? Gotta make sure our guests match with the lists for this one." Vinters nodded, giving a surprisingly professional sounding, "Yes sir. We're fully green and ready to go, sir."[/color] The two then focused attention on the people in attendance, attempting to note anything out of place.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: La Hacienda
Skills: N/A

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Meanwhile, back upstairs...

"Oh, you awful, heartless bitch." stated Thalia quietly, hammering away at her keys. Maybe hammering wasn't quite the right term; they were clacking in rapid order, prompting one to wonder whether she was merely tapping random keys for dramatic effect, but no, she was typing with purpose. The wonderful and tragic fun that was Alicia's final gift to her filled her with a sudden desire to just shut her entire system down, run downstairs, and take a baseball bat to the corpse of her beloved Prima in such a way that rained palpable bits of her anger across the viewing. The screams of rage mixed with sorrow would be heard all the way into Monterrey proper.

Naturally, the impulse to defile her corpse in clear view of the rest of her family gave her the slightest twinge of guilt. A thing that Alicia always said, like some kind of karmic lesson: "Everything is returned tenfold". It was a hell of a thought to have while barely holding on in the fight against her particularly infuriating countermeasure. Returning tenfold. How fucking novel. Maybe Thalia was trying too hard. Cautiously, she began to slow her typing, just to see if there was a change in the rate the virus was affecting her system.

And back to Caesar...

Where our grim anti-hero almost-protagonist was sitting not unlike a barbarian king upon a throne of skulls, waiting for the next challenge to present itself for the honor of being added to his roster of victims, perchance to add a skull or two to his collection of throne adornments. Caesar took a long pull from his bottle of mescal, taking note of the worm at the bottom. It was very likely that before the night was done, he would be chewing on the spongy, rubbery flesh of the tiny agave parasite. He hoisted his new, evil looking machete to lean on his shoulder, and slumped down into a more comfortable position in his great, wooden chair.

"Mi Familia!" he called, addressing his people. "Estoy lleno de hostilidad. No puedo detenerlo. Deseo matar a tantas personas como sea posible que sean responsables de la muerte de M'hija.₁" It was a fair enough statement that the vast majority of the family agreed with. Not that they were a bloodthirsty people. Ok, maybe they were in varying degrees, but they were a genuinely industrious, giving people as well. They did raise cheers at the idea, though. "Pero eso traería deshonor a nuestra pequeña Alicia en esta noche. Por favor, déjanos una canción. Algo alegre Algo para celebrar la vida y recordarla.₂"

More cheers were raised, and in short order a mariachi trio assembled and began to play. Most everyone knew the song, and very soon those gathered began to clap along and dance in the style of their people; lively and without reservation.

Cancion del Mariachi (Mariachi's Song)

Translations

1 = I am filled with hostility. I cannot stop it. I wish to kill as many people as I can that are responsible for M'hija's death.
2 = But that would bring dishonor to our little Alicia on this night. Please, let us have a song. Something joyous. Something to celebrate life and remember her.

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

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: The Museum (Archives)
Skills: N/A

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The hip check that Neema gave to the shelving was a telling thing. A heavy crate stacked upon a stable shelf really only had the potential to fall if the shelf gave way, which it did not, or if it was acted upon by a force outside of itself. Something had to move the murderous crate. A proper investigator would be able to suss out the events of the hour. Reginald was not quite so much a crime solver as he was an old soldier. Right now, this old soldier had a social duty to perform, such as it was.

Concerning the offer to put something flammable into Josephine, Reginald flashed a warm smile as he assisted the starlet toward the exit, and hopefully back up to the main floor. He pat his chest, the report of a hollow metal sound indicating that he had something of his own to add to the young lady's tea, if she so desired a snort of more or less decent whiskey. Hell, he could go for three or so, himself. "Yes, Lady Munn's office sounds like the proper spot to clear our heads. If necessary, perhaps we might persuade the caretakers of this fine museum to lend us the use of lobby chairs, or some such, if necessary." Reginald sighed. He was still carrying that clipboard with the inventory request forms. With his free hand, he tucked the item into the back of his waistband, and continued giving Josephine an assist back upstairs.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Российский императорский цирк

(Russian Imperial Circus)

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The guard who had initially spoken, and indeed seemed to be taking the lead due to a firmer grasp of the English language than his counterparts, breathed a heavy sigh at the words of the London native at their gates. "Da." he started, taking on a weary tone. "I have not met Sister-Knight yet. Saw her vith Great Bazhooli. Many come to meet her tonight. Maybe Lady Crypt, but have not met her, either." He changed his posture from to something more attentive, laying his hands on his belt between a short saber and a wide bore pistol. The guard straightened to his full height and stated flatly, "Changes nothing. No admittance tonight. Sorry for inconvenience."

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Sister Mary Ignatia Hale

_{"In that renewal there is no longer Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and free; but Christ is all and in all."}

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)

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As the Graveolase settled in to await whatever served as the presentation of the Russian delegation, she had to admit a certain sense of building wonder. Having seen a little of what their Training allowed them to accomplish, she was very much looking forward to a full force showing of their ability. Now, based upon the information provided to her by Veta, Vladimir, and the Baron, they were not technically supposed to present themselves in this manner. As least not traditionally. The Circus was pushing the boundaries of an organization that held immense power worldwide, and they were doing it because they had absolutely nothing to lose. It was an all-or-nothing gambit, and Mary could not wait to see it.

Naturally, she could not tip her hand. Giving away any clue of their plan would spoil the surprise, whatever it may be. Seeing as it was planned by her new and massively eccentric friends from Russia, it was guaranteed to be memorable. Mary also felt that it would be in bad taste to open a dialogue with Ludwig, considering his status presently. He would be up for judgement by herself and the rest of the Graveolase; having already given his demonstration and awaiting the word of the Council, any further unsolicited contact might be taken as an attempt to sway the decision. Mary wasn't even sure if that was a hard and fast rule, but as her teachers passed along to her in her formative years, "Shun the very appearance of evil". Not really evil in this instance, but somewhat unethical. Unfortunately, "shun the very appearance of somewhat unethical" doesn't really roll off of the tongue quite as easily. Besides, the man seemed to have his hands full with a curious Virginia.

For the meantime, Mary concentrated her attention on those around her. The representatives of the Graveolase were an interesting bunch. She could not tell much in the way of a single qualification common to all of these people, except that they had no difficulty speaking their minds at any given opportunity. Regardless of gender or religious background, they all seemed to be in some sort of exclusive club, viewing each other more or less as equals. Or at least acting like it around her. She must be something of an oddity to them.

As the lights dimmed, she caught sight of the Japanese representative looking her way. Mary looked back, maintaining her classic serenity, then nodded toward the center ring. The show was starting. Inwardly, she was a little kid again. This was going to be fun.

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

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Newhope - Lady Luck
Skills: N/A

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He didn't expect that the food would be done moments after he put in a request for it, nor did he know what it was going to be, really. So when it did not arrive, Foy was not surprised. However, the speed with which the drinks he requested were served reminded him of two things: 1) In this 'Verse, tipping first ensures prompt service, and 2) The people in charge probably wanted its clientele drunk, as drunk people are freer with their money. It made sense. So, true to request, the server was acquiescent enough to set a low tumbler glass in front of him, plop down a bottle of more or less decent whisky, and see to the drinks of the others at the table. Foy examined the bottle for a second or two, shrugged as if to impart "It'll do", and poured himself two fingers of neat, brown alcohol.

Foy raised his glass and, turning to Mei, answered her question by posing one of his own. "Why madame, whatever makes you consider that I shan't be doing both, and with rapt proficiency, hmm?" He smiled, leaning back in his chair. There seemed to be no immediate threat from this woman, despite the fact that she seemed quite irritable at the moment. Moreover, she appeared not to recognize him in the least. Sadly, the previous intruder had already opened up about her minor misadventures from earlier, and to the person who posessed his contract, eliminating both his plan and motivations toward the young lady. She had some nerve, that was for certain. Foy resolved not to underestimate her in the same manner that others often did him.

He raised his glass slightly, looking to Dorothy with a quizzically raised eyebrow. One might even imagine he was showing the barest of concern. She seemed to be doing a little better, even so much as to show a touch of sarcasm. Sarcasm, though hardly ever used properly in his estimation, seemed a good sign for her emotional well being. Speaking of which, Foy risked a sideways glance over to the still silent Daphne, hoping to catch a glimpse of any change from the younger Pender sister. He gave a mild shrug upon noting nothing, looked back to Dorothy, and toasted, "To mischief!" before taking a sip of his very neat whisky and setting the glass back down.

Naturally, it seemed that Jahosafat had a little mischief in mind. He noted the fellow Farradayan's eyes looking in his direction. Foy was unsure as to exactly what he had in mind, but he leaned forward a little, waiting to see if he would throw any cues his way if indeed he was up to something.

Changing topic, he picked up his cards and addressed Fitz, "Indubitably, Dr. Townsley. That is a novel yet apt way of stating the overall guidelines of my job description to potential contractees. I cut hair, and indeed I make things more entertaining for persons willing to be forthcoming with the breadth of my salary." He raised his glass to the fairly nervous younger man, took another sip, and stated, "To your health, sir."

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William Harper

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Location: Newhope - Lady Luck
Skills: N/A

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Anisa certainly seemed fond of airlocks. Or more specifically, watching people get sucked out of them for some infraction or another. It was a tad excessive, but luckily he was presently on a stable planet with viable atmosphere, with little to fear from the horrors of suddenly being exposed to the zero pressure and monstrous cold of the Black. Hopefully, this was authoritative posturing more than anything else. Well, he could hope. Working for the woman was like having a tiger by the tail, he figured; as long as you were diligent it was merely frightening. As soon as you let go... Well, maybe it was preferable to just be diligent. And of course, Harper was dancing with her. Maybe he really was crazy.

Though he was a little disappointed that there was no dip.

As it turned out, someone did interrupt his "tiger by the tail" situation. A tall man with dark hair who appeared to have no problem walking right up to Anisa and beginning a conversation with her in the middle of the dance floor, while she was mid-step with a partner. The gall of some people, but Harper figured that this was about to be an example of Border or Rim style male oneupmanship, and prepared to do what he had to in the situation. Much like in prison, he had to gear himself up to go completely, unexpectedly apeshit on this guy before he could get more than a few words out. Harper and Anisa were not emotionally connected, paeticularly seeing as his life and freedom were threatened by her on more than one occasion, but this is how one survived in his very recent position. The habit would likely always be there, like trauma that never fully heals.

The look on the Captain's face as the stranger started talking quelled that instinct. He had misread the situation. Instead, Harper took on a posture and gait more like the Lieutenant he was a week ago. He looked to the table, noting that no one was dead yet, and immediately got back on the clock, as it were. Luckily, Harper's forethought had him only imbibing a miniscule amount of alcohol, and thanks to his training with the Alliance military he was a passable combatant, if it came down to it. With resolve, he followed Anisa toward the back rooms to continue this discussion with more privacy.

The option to go unexpectedly apeshit was still on the table.

🦄 The Paradoxical Emendation - Merged With T.S.

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Gilbert Summers, "The Hat"

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Location: Ville au Camp - Kitchen House
Skills: N/A

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Questions. There were always questions from new Paradoxes, even when they were told specifically when, where, and to what extent they would be answered, just so long as they showed a little patience. But they did show the extent to their unbreakable curiosity. The rest... Shock and depression had nasty ways of both covering up amd revealing elements of their personality. Gilbert just smiled at the incoming inquiries, responding with, "All in good time. I know this is maddening, and I know you need answers. You'll get some of them in the Kitchen House, I promise." He waited outside of the door for the newcomers to enter, then followed casually behind. Evie had Part Two of the introductory speech to give, all in good order.

Evie did always like to keep things orderly. Much of the time, that also meant that she liked to be in charge. Especially during times like this, with new Paradoxes coming in. It set a standard that they noticed and took to, filling their preconceived notions of hierarchy. Well, that wasn't a huge deal for Gil. He had been the ruler of the greatest civilization that humanity had known, once upon a time. It didn't do him a bit of good now. In the impossibly long lives of Emendators, power was a comparatively fleeting thing. When the chips were down and it was within the best interests of everyone concerned, Gilbert's words and actions meant just as much as anyone else's here. The problem being, he was the eternal warrior. If he asserted authority over a situation because of his expertise, it meant that people were very likely going to die. So, taking a backseat was preferable.

He flashed a smile in Evelina's direction. She did seem do like speaking to him in Greek. Patting his stomach, he responded, "Oh no, Miss Evelina. I couldn't possibly. Thank you, though. Everything looks great." Of course, this was not the proper response, but he doubted that anyone else in the room spoke Greek fluently.

Then The Dice lived up to her name. Lots and lots of times. Gilbert held onto the gaze of his fellow Emendator, listening to the tumbling and rolling of the mass of polyhedrons clicking and clacking upon the table. Even if the knowledge of human events did not leap into his memory automatically, he would have known what that meant. Gilbert did not speak, though a heavy sigh escaped his lips. It was truly a shame and a tragedy, this coming from a man who has, in his long lifetime, had personally killed thousands and thousands.

Clearing his throat, Gil looked around to who was left, aside from the residents of the Undead Timeline and the pale lady, Andromeda. "Alright guys, grab what you're going to grab. We don't charge anything, so go nuts. For the rest od the day, we're going to be pals." Then Gilbert heard the winds. He felt the temperature drop and heard the booming crack of thunder. Casually, he reached for a pickle on the table. A satisfying crunch into it, he spoke with his mouth partially full, "Huh, weather manipulator. Those are rare... Alright, are we ready? Who's with me?"

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James Grady

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Location: Ville au Camp - Kitchen House
Skills: N/A

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James was a fairly unhappy man. The more questions he got answered, whether he vocalized them or not, the more he felt like a hammer or a drill; a thing brought out for specific purpose, maybe even appreciated, but ultimately a tool to be utilized by forces from which the only respite was death. Again. Hopefully there was more to it. They revealed much of this piecemeal. This last bit, about invisible monsters and fixing timelines? That was a lot to swallow. At least he had a couple of friends with him, one of which had even learned the ropes here.

Oh, he fully intended to ask the Dice Lady a question. He agreed that this wasn't a thing to rush into, either. Care must be taken to ensure that a properly phrased query, specific yet leading to broader understanding, could be formulated. James did take the oppprtunity to slap a pile of meat onto a slab of bread, though. Evidently, dying did not curb his appetite mucb. When Evelina divided them into groups, was pleased to note that he was with the friends of his previous life, more or less, and opted to take his impromptu dagwood with him rather than stick around indoors.

Perhaps that last decision was a heaping mistake, considering the sudden and dramatic change in weather. "Hot, messy, goddamn!" he exclaimed over the wind, "This happen everyday here?" When he found out that it was a power manifesting, a sense of curiosity came over him. He wondered what would happen when it was his turn. Thoughtfully, James put a blackneck sized bitemark into the side of his sandwich.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

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Location: La Hacienda
Skills: N/A

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Today was not a good day. That much was obvious. Burying your only daughter (ok, only legitimate daughter of which he was aware) never made for a pleasant day, ever. Nor were the days leading up to it. Come to think of it, the last decent day he had involved him waking up from a crappy dream where zombies were gnawing on him, right before the chick from Resident Evil put a blade into him as a mercy killing. He was tired, he was hungover, and he kicked down the door to his baby girl's apartment with a machete and bottle of tequila in his boxers and fuzzy bunny slippers. Someone died that day, too. Someone always dies. It was just the way things happened. It was a piss-poor excuse for a decent existence, one he hoped to spare his children. Well, he failed that one, too. His daughter died because of his life's decisions. Now he was dragging his brother, his niece, and his ex-wife into it. Well, he wasn't dragging his niece, persay. It was more of her decision based upon a world in which his actions colored the options and skewed the concept of normal horribly. People died because of Caesar. That was also how things worked. It was why few people remained close to him for very long. People die.

Now, if he could just figure out where to lay the blade, several more were about to. Ones that deserved it this time. Caesar strolled through the crowd of people viewing his M'hija, the press of people politely parting to allow him access to wherever he needed to go. Where he went was straight over to a table laden with the gifts and trinkets that the guests had left for the family. He selected a very large and nasty looking machete, just because he thought it was pretty ad he felt like holding something sharp. Cleared his head, like meditation. Likewise, this is why he also selected a bottle of decent mescal. There was a chair toward the side of the viewing area, a couple of them actually, reserved for persons of honor like Caesar and Maria. He selected one, settled into it, and removed the top to his bottle. Blade in one hand, bottle in the other, Caesar began to get his mind right for what was to come after.

Meanwhile, back upstairs...

"Shit. Shit shit shit. And... shit." Not the most eloquent speech ever given by the young lady, but she was a touch pressed for time at the moment. Her fingers worked over the keyboard like a woman possessed, eyes twitching this way and that on her screen. Details, damnit, details. Thalia could barely keep up with the countermeasure that Alicia had safeguarded her drive with. She was in the middle of a stalemate with the programming, one that seemed to be slowly shifting the way of the virus. "God damnit, you bitch..." she whispered, hoping Alicia's spirit was present for her to hear. "You're going to fry my system over a message you wanted me to get. You can go eat a spectral dick."

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

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Keystone

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Location: Deymin's Tower (2F)

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Alright, so maybe Keystone wasn't totally mentally prepared to deal with what came next, mostly because 80% of what he expected to come next, or at least some variation of it, decided not to show up to the grand event that would very likely result in a monumental, nigh-epic beating of his arse. If he lived past today, the hulking pugilist very likely would look back upon this hour as one of the least planned, most spectacularly banjaxed combative engagements of his lifetime, complete with (at least) one of his group taking the big dirtnap. He had been party to this scenario, or many like it, for years now. Mostly, these little roadblocks in his life were peppered heavily with the undead. Go figure.

So aside from this undertaking utterly sucking out loud, Keystone was left with an option that really wasn't an option. He could either continue downstairs and try to recover Kyra's body, avenge her death against the monstrous centipede that Satilla described briefly and save her dire wolf, or do what motivated him to skirt around Sana in the first place: Protect his people. Yes, he had to admit to himself that these two-legged social annoyances were, in fact, his people. At least today. And he would be damned thrice over if he was just going to let some necromancer/summoner/asshat run roughshod over any more of them. He had full intent of running blocker for Sana, pulling the attention of the bad guys to himself, and making that smug bastich swallow bloody shards of his own teeth before using his unconscious and/or dead gullet as a pay toilet.

"Bloody, fonging, bacon-damned 'ell!" growled Keystone, giving only the barest glance in the direction of the downstairs. He slipped his hands into his pockets, switching out his silver-inlay brass knuckles for a pair of lusterless black ones. They did not have the lunar, purifying qualities attributed to silver, but they had their own interesting and painful quirks that made them worth the investment of his time and money to commission. "Ash! Come!" he roared down the stairs. It was fleeting hope that the noble beast was still alive, or that he would leave the body of his fallen master. Or that he gave a rat's hindparts about listening to Keystone's commands in the least. There was still a centipede down there, a detail he could not easily forget. But Keystone couldn't go down there now. Luck be with the canine, but as stated earlier, there was no real option here. With his mind officially changed on the matter, he turned his attention upstairs and began moving as fast as he could to aid his people.

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

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: The Museum (Archives)
Skills: N/A

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"Oh, my sweet and merciful Darjeeling..." spoke Reginald in a subdued voice. He felt like a positive heel for his words just prior, about the Museum having someone's head over the incident. As it turned out, someone was already deprived of their need for a head, except as a point of postmortem aesthetics. This was unfortunate. Upon realizing who it was that had just finished the last day of their life, he felt a little guilty. Reginald had already conditionally threatened the man's life and freedom once that day, and before in manners subtle and not-so-subtle. Now here he lay, quite unliving, and the Lord Major derived not an ounce of pleasure from it.

It looked to hit Josephine hard. Of course it would, those two were thick as thieves and had certain curiosities in common. For all of their more vexing qualities, they were friends. Probably the closest thing the two of them had in the entire country of Egypt was each other. While Reginald did not share her depth of feeling for the man, he did most certainly have a gnawing streak of gentlemanly nature. And this had to be truly shocking for the Starlet, as made apparent by an outburst of emotion that was either magnificent acting, or more likely, genuine grief.

As she began to weep in earnest and became unsteady on her feet, Reginald gently took her arm and allowed her to use him as a post to lean upon, if she needed. "Come along now, a lady need not see these things. Let us return to the main area and contact the local authorities. Find a spot to sit down and process, perhaps something warming to sip upon while we wait, hmm?" The Lord Major motioned back the way they had come, suggesting aloud, "I am certain one of our Fellowship can tend to the crate in our absence."

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Российский императорский цирк

(Russian Imperial Circus)

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Back at the main gate to the Tent City, the guards were becoming mildly annoyed. It was understandable that someone would want to join in the festivities and merriment of the Russian Imperial Circus, but they were under orders. Specific ones. Two of them, in fact. They were not military, at least not in the traditional sense. But every man, woman, and child present at the Circus considered one another family, and each of them were selected for this journey because of their immense skill, loyalty, and their ability to operate in an English speaking environment (as a secondary feature, but important nonetheless). Not traditional military, but most assuredly on a mission. A single insistent man was not going to make them falter in their duties, especially not this night.

One guard looked to the other, then called out to a third a little farther in the confines of the wood and canvas village, "Здесь есть человек, с именем Таlink. Разве это не имя Великий Бажули?₁"

The man responded with a nod and studied over Thalken asnif to memorize detal. He inquired, "Китайская сабля?₂" Followed by a simple response of "Da!", this time from the other guard at the entrance. He kept his eyes on the strange man, his arms held crossed in front of him. The man farther in took the opportunity to jog off, back farther into the collection of temporary residences.

The first guard returned his gaze back to the man requesting entry, and with a polite smile, "Sorry. Am not knowing a Lady Crypt, but is not matter. Closed show tonight. No admittance. Peoples who should be in are in. Please come back tomorrow, big show. Can sell ticket, iv you are vanting. Iv not, have good night, sir."

Translations

1 = There is a man here with the name of Talink. Isn't that the name The Great Bazhooli told us?
2 = Chinese saber?

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Sister Mary Ignatia Hale

_{"A time is coming when men will go mad, and when they see someone who is not mad, they will attack him, saying, “You are mad; you are not like us." -St. Anthony the Great}

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park)

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It was no surprise that all of these people knew each other. That was to be expected. What was not as expected was the camaraderie between them, as if they were old friends. Mary felt doubly the outsider among them. This was not what she was trained to do. She doubted that any one of the people responsible for making her into... Well, her had given any thought that something like this might ever happen. Yet here she was, sitting among some of the most powerful people in Creation. And they looked like old friends discussing trivial matters.

Admittedly, the representative from Germany was a little off. Moreover, she knew nothing about their organization or even if they possessed the capacity to organize at all. It was an impressive set of abilities. Sadly, she could only wonder what role they played in the overall mission of protecting Humanity or ending the Soulless threat. Mary wished to be inclusive, but ability without purpose made her lean away from approving Ludwig's admittance into the Graveolase.

Then something odd happened. Virginia seemed to favor the man, no surprise there. He was unique and appeared to know something about her people. No, what surprised her was the ease with which Adam took to him, and in a manner that was very familiar. As if family, one could say. It raised an immediate alarm with Mary. She settled back into her seat, but kept a protective eye on her little charge. Until papers were signed and Mary had given an official approval, Adam was still her responsibility. All the same, her friend and her ward, both, gave immediate approval of this man. Perhaps she should not be so hasty.