Sigil

🦄 The Paradoxical Emendation - Merged With T.S.

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Gilbert Summers, "The Hat"

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Location: Ville au Camp (Main House, outside of Room 106)
Skills: N/A

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The door to the bedroom closed behind him, Gilbert took a second to look into the life of Peter Keystone, both before and after his first death. The tall Emendator closed his eyes and relaxed his brain into a sort of hazy focus, not grabbing to tightly to a series of events nor too loosely. It was the sum of human history that encompassed the man, Peter, and the strands of other peoples' lives that were altered by his presence. In short, Gilbert absorbed the knowledge of Peter's life, all the good and the bad, and everyone that was a part of his existence.

Peter was a good man. A decent man. He was noble and brave. Peter fought and died in service of something greater than himself, and left behind people who genuinely cared about him. His life had meaning. Upon the moment of his second passing, whether Peter was aware of it or not, he had left behind two people in his timeline who would be genuinely moved. Gilbert sighed. Reading into the entirety of a man's history might be viewed as a trespass. Certainly, no one wants people sifting through their clothes drawers to view their more intimate apparel nor reading their diary, but in this way, something of Peter might live on, within the recollections of an immortal.

It was a fine ability, having access to the entirety of human events. One that proved useful in many ways. Accessing the most recent of happenings, he strove to find out where George had gotten off to. The intent was to inform him, if he hadn't gotten the message, that Peter's remains were waiting in their room. It might come as an amazing and painful shock to see him there, and Gil would have spared the man that fate until proper arrangements could be made. To his surprise, he learned that George had already announced his plans to grab a shovel from the Mill and get to digging Peter's grave. He stood idly for a moment, caught between his responsibility to the new Paradoxes in his tour group and his desire to assist George properly inter his friend.

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James Grady

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Location: Ville au Camp (Yard just outside of the Kitchen House)
Skills: N/A

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"Well, don't that beat all?" muttered James, looking up at Alexandra, who had decided to join them out on the grass. "Pig Man" was not exactly the superhero alter ego that he was hoping for, and in fact if that was used in his presence more often, James was pretty sure that he was going to murder someone else. In some small way, he was probably glad that his misadventures with shifting into a wild boar unexpectedly brought someone joy, as Lord knew he wasn't amazingly happy with it. Suffice it to say, he did not accept the hand up.

James did respond to Alicia though. He looked over to his good friend from his previous life, mulling over words. Oh indeed, James was familiar with what a wild boar could do. Nasty buggers sometimes, and smart to boot. As for the other half of her sentence: "If'n I knew Fairy was a possibility..." he said, shrugging his shoulders. He slowly pushed himself from the ground, very glad to see hands in front of him and not hooves. "An'a hells yeah, I been screamin' bout a drink since we got here!" he added.

The previously porcine blackneck looked to Alexandra and nodded back to the Kitchen House. "Might wanna see to your friend." he started, noting Faith's near fully transparent appearance, "Somethin' up with her skin."

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

_{His childhood bedroom. Caesar sometimes comes back here to think.}

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Location: La Hacienda
Skills: N/A

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Benicio knew that this situation had turned from something touching and/or computer-frying and turned it into a thing more and more like the family business. Naturally, that meant that Caesar would make his appearance very soon, and it was best if little Liam wasn't around to distract any of them. "I'm going to go find Maria, okay Angelita?" he offered up in neutral tone, stepping lightly toward the door leading to the interior balcony. "Yeah, sure..." replied Thalia quite absently, poring over the information being revealed to her. It was still exciting stuff, whether or not she could understand the significance.

The one guy in the building who probably could make full sense of it, or at least more sense, was swiftly approaching from below. His path was taking a little longer than expected, having to navigate around his impressively large family, but when he finally made his way around, over, and through, he could see his dear brother descending the stairs from the wing's bedrooms. And carrying his only grandson. Only legitimate grandson, at any rate. In passing, Caesar gave him a long, slow look, wondering what manner of random, stab-worthy information he was about to be made privy to, and debating grabbing the man and hauling him back with him. No, not while he had Liam. "Find a place for the boy and come back. Real soon." he intoned. Not quite an order, but a highly suggestive intonation. Benicio nodded, gave little Liam a comforting bob up and down, and continued on his way.

Caesar opened the door to Thalia's bedroom slowly, as if expecting something surprising to jump out at him. When it did not, and his young niece waved him in, he did so with minimal hesitation. "An Angel has the secret." he repeated, referencing the video that Alicia had made for him. "That's you. You've got something for me. I was wondering when this would come up." He continued from the video, "A Father has the key." He could readily guess that it meant his brother the priest. "That's your Pops. But what I don't get is the last part. She says to bury her, and something about The Future." Maybe that had to do with Liam, and wanting to keep him off the radar. Or maybe there was something more. "Show me what you have. Just know: Now that you've seen this, you're part of it. I'm very sorry."

They were scanning the data in earnest when Benicio returned. By that time, Caesar was already on his phone, sending a message back to Justice, California for Keystone, that son-of-a-bitch. He sent it to his company email, rather than as a text message, and titled the subject "French Omelette and Kippered Salmon". Maybe he would remember their prearranged code. Without mentioning anything specific, he gave a short message about Wentworth secure files uncovered, and to request information about their predecessors from Queensguard (without divulging anything about files). The old woman seemed to want to tell them something more than she did at their meeting, even going as far as to say that she and Alicia were of like mind about their future. Whether this was a ploy or not was beyond him, but if the last security company to deal with them uncovered something that got people killed, then their investigation had to turn toward Wentworth for the meantime.

...back in Justice, Queensguard R&D Industrial Complex...

Keystone and Vinters both received word that the screens had gone blank. As the interim Director had given them directions in the interim to keep an eye on the nefarious Mr. Wentworth, they were able to report that the last thing they saw him do, prior to the screens going out, was tap his glass. "Please tell me y'got vid on this fuckwit doin'it, yeah?" spoke Keystone, into his comm. It was responded to with an affirming grunt of "mmm hmm". The big man ran down the list of security protocol for an event such as this, unsure if the company had ever had to deal with a cyberattack from inside one of their complexes. But some things were granted, from a common sense perspective. Quietly, Keystone issued what orders he could, considering his limited grasp on technology of this nature. "Right. If'n this is an attack, we need to be informin' Ms. Queensguard right bloody now that her building sec is compromised. Second up, we're pullin' the plug on everythin' cept hardwired security 'quipment. Huang, I need you on the local server, right? Shut it down. Whitmore, you're makin' sure MSS still's got our intranet services so's we can least limp on one good leg, and Vinters? You're with me. I gots a call to make."

It likely wasn't what she wanted to hear, but the company's owner did give over her business card with contact numbers in case something came up. Well, it looked like something pretty huge just came up. Keystone breathed out a big sigh, and dialed the number for Elizabeth Queensguard.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway

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Location: Hordebuster, Sprayberry Road -> Intersection of Sprayberry and Jackson St.
Skills: Engineering, Mechanic

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Ash slightly misjudged the distance of Sprayberry Road. He had expected to hit Roscoe in short order, a fact that he had to put back into his mental map of the area. It had been a little bit since he had been up this way. The pieces of memory took a couple seconds to jumble back into place. All in all, he was glad that Riley had the map and he was behind the wheel. Route confirmation was an important thing. Damned necessary, even. The amount of fuel in the tanks could take them from one side of the continent to the other one, but without a readily available means of resupplying they had to account for every drop of it, be it diesel, standard, or alcohol. Ash made a mental note to locate or construct another still as soon as possible. For him, it was pretty much a survival tool.

"Thanks, Riley." intoned Ash, veering the Hordebuster to the left to avoid a section that looked perilously like black ice. He risked a look back into the cab, confirming the presence of Niesha, Riley, personal equipment and their bugout bags. Maybe it was minor paranoia. Maybe that type of selective caution kept people alive.

The big, solid truck began making its way into a more residential area of Sprayberry. One side of the road was dotted with trees that still hadn't quite put leaves back on, standing in front of once proud middle-class houses. Ash looked upon them with near dead nostalgia. He would have liked to have lived in a place like that, back Before. For that matter, he would have loved to be back in his house in Newnan; a grand old building that was converted into a venue site. He had lived there alone in spacious digs, feeling almost opulent in comparison to how he had lived prior to establishing the Newnan Safe Zone. Now all of that was at the bottom of a crater. Thanks, God. Thanks a lot.

The road bent to a near perfect West direction, taking them further into the residential area. The houses became a little smaller and set closer together, the picture of an abandoned, nigh idyllic neighborhood. It was a little depressing. Ash soldiered on, keeping his feelings quiet for the time being, just hoping that others had survived to make it to the bugout points. Maybe a few would make it to Arnco Mills. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Hope, hope, hope. All he could do now is drive. Ash brought the Hordebuster further up Sprayberry until its end; the road terminated at a four-way stop, interescting with Jackson Street. Across the way was Roscoe Rd. The 'Buster now sat between an abandoned gas station and an inviting (but equally abandoned) barbecue restaurant. It had to be barbecue.

Right in that second, Ash began to really miss James. As he stared out of the window, looking at the faded, wooden pig sign in front of the restaurant, single tears formed in his eyes. Ash couldn't allow himself to think about him right now, even if he did just see him die. He had survivors to think of, with greater priority than anything else.

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Thalia Carmichael

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Location: Eden, 22 -> Headed toward Tennis Courts
Skills: Stealth, Survival

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The directions given threw off Thalia for a second. Toward the tennis courts and around front... She had assumed for a bit there that the "front" was in the direction of the TANK, which was doing a fine and spiffy job relocating Edenites toward its location. The wave of temporary stupidity thankfully washed away, revealing a more competent Thalia who was in tune with the concept of front and back sides of buildings, based upon architectural design and not the temporary needs of a post-apocalyptic band of reprobates and assholes. Thalia wasn't sure which designation she fell into; Reprobate or Asshole, and it was quite possible that in the next hour the question would be totally academic.

Thalia ran the lay of the land over in her head. It would be trickier going, moving around that way that Thana suggested. It was the best route though, so far as the plan was concerned. They had to get up to the building and get in, hopefully with the brunt of these asshats firing impotently at Lola's Mobile Armor. What she wouldn't give for a detachment of MSS High Threat personnel at her disposal. Or even the old group from Castle Town in Fairburn. She missed them. Really did. As it was, she had herself, a Navy chick, and a 'Nam vet. It could be worse.

"Yeah, tennis courts..." Sometimes, in order to advance you had to take a detour. "I'll take point. Be ready to give me some cover, this isn't an exact science." Damn, she wanted a silencer. It would make this so much easier. Under cover of trees and the lengthening shadows of the day, Thalia began sneaking her way toward the corner of the nearest tennis court. The sooner all this began, the sooner it could end.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Vladimir Alexandrov

"The Great Bazhooli"

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Location: Russian Imperial Circus Tent City (Regent's Park) Main Tent to Front Gate
Skills: Fal'shbort (Passive), Tretiy Glaz (Passive)

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The concept of forming their own Council was discussed, even optimistically so. But much of the time it seemed like the discussion one might have about winning a city lottery or land drawing - excited talk full of maybes and ifs, but without a lot of substance beyond the light and airy feeling one gets when daydreaming about exciting things that might be. Now that Veta had refused the offer of the Graveolase (but wasn't that Mary now?) and decided that the Russian delegation would strike out on its own, Vladimir had his doubts about how exactly that would be accomplished. Then she mentioned Ludwig. The crazy German apparently held knowledge of many other groups that the Graveolase had refused. This meant two things to Vlad: First, they had a list to go by when searching for other persons of Training, be they nonstandard. Second, they were stuck with the man now. They would not have any of the political clout of the Graveolase, at first. And they would probably have to prove themselves to whomever they wished to convince to join their budding group.

"Vell, Circus is not stuck in vone place. Ve move, move to vherever The Baron commands! I vould rather stay and make moneys from peoples of London; Season is upon us, da, and money is in London now. If is not best for Circus, best for our people, then ve move." A devious grin took hold of Vladimir in that moment, punctuated by a sparkle in his eyes. If a silver lining was to be found, then The Great Bazhooli had just found it. Ever the showman, true delight shone through in his voice as he proclaimed with the confidence attributed to many of his title, going back uncounted generations, "This means show! This means ve must prove to other countries, other peoples that ve are vorthy of joining vith! This means..." He paused for dramatic effect, spinning once around slowly with his arms outstretched, "...this means Grand Mamushka vill be danced again! Da! Ve do this! Little more time in raining, foggy London-town, then the road - she calls to us!" The thought hadn't really occurred to him that they weren't fully prepared to go off the plan, popping elsewhere to go on what amounted to an extended tour. These were details, mere details. It could be rectified with an influx of funding or by acting in the manner of the Circus of old; hunting, scavenging, even a bit of thieving if needed. Women of contractible promiscuity plying their trade instead of just dancing or assisting in shows, even making deals with the local cutpurses for a percentage of the take in return for safe harbor to conditionally work the crowds. Half of their heritage was Gypsy, after all. Some of those stereotypes came with good reason, unless you were Gypsy too.

The other part of Veta's request struck him with some alarm. Actually allow the man into the Circus? His family had already promised to bring harm to James and Virginia, and by extension had made enemies of the Circus and the Sem'ya. Yet the Grand Duchess commands his admittance. Another questioning look leapt from Vladimir's face, doubt coloring his feelings about Veta's decision. But it was not his place to question her, not unless it had direct impact upon the Bazhooli Sem'ya. "Ov course, Grand Duchess. Vill be as you command." Vladimir spun his hat back onto his head and gave a swift, agile bow while his hand was still on the brim, then immediately turned and strode back toward the front gate.

Along the way, he issued a few stark orders in his Trained tongue of Rusyn, ensuring that outsiders would not have a clue as to his motivations and that those of Training would be among the extra security that moved to occupy the main tent and to flank him as he walked. Trained persons armed irregularly, but armed, all. When he finally made it back to the gate, he addressed Thalken with strong, projected tones, mustering as best of English as fit the situation. "Stand, Talink!" he barked, raising a hand to get the guards marching along with him to stop. He kept his other hand occupied spinning a large knife. It calmed him. "By order of Grand Duchess, have been granted audience vith representative." Vlad hesitated to mention what the man was representing, as he really didn't know, himself. "You vill be turning all veapons over to this guard." he motioned over to one of the guards that occupied the post just a while earlier, "May call him, eh... Bob. For now, is Bob. Then you come vith us. Any problem, you will not see outside of Circus. Ever."

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Sister Mary Ignatia Hale

_{"He has made us competent as ministers of a new covenant – not of the letter but of the Spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life."}

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

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It was nearing time for Mary and the others to begin their own little adventure, traveling overland to Mary's own country of origin and effecting what might actually amount to a daring rescue. It was much like the stories that she used to read as a child, where the good Knight rides hard and fights the good fight for God and Country, finally overcoming overwhelming odds with his sword, his head, and the grace of the Almighty. Now as an adult, she realized that much more went into the execution of a successful mission, but the child in her still felt a little excited about having this adventure with her friends. It was good. It was righteous. And Mary had her own suspicions about that Rutherford fellow. It was bad enough, his political affiliation over her Clan. But this? Downright evil.

Mary smiled a small smile at Virginia's words. Of course she would be available to answer any questions her friend would have for her. It went without saying, though it was polite of her to mention. But she was probably very correct; the present for present matters. Mary only wished that she had time to collect her horse, Cassius, before they departed. With practiced grace, Mary fell into step with Virginia, cradling her halberd in the crook of her arm. "Of course, Lady Crypt. You may ask anything of me, and I am sure that we will have time enough for discussion later."

The following moments were spent listening to their footfalls as the pair made their way to Elizaveta's tent. Mary registered a small element of surprise as the Grand Duchess joined them, seemingly out of nowhere. She had a bit of gypsy in her, Mary would wager (if she was the wagering type). The fact that she was raised by Circus people might have something to do with that, yet she managed to maintain her aloof sense of royal propriety. Then Veta said something that made Mary's hand reflexively move to her pistol. Talink was here. She had pledged herself to assist in the protection of James Crypt, even though The Baron had likewise promised the safety of the Circus, and indeed that he would be trained as one of the Bazhooli Sem'ya. Nonetheless, Mary felt a tiny calling in the back of her mind, pulling her back to the main tent to confront the villain and complete the action she began the previous evening when she drew her large bore firearm on the man. As far as she was concerned, his presence was a complication they did not need at best, and the preceding action to an attack at worst. It would be better to stitch this tiny problem before it became less surmountable.

That thought process was halted directly in its tracks by Veta's next words. "Master ...Zimmer?" she inquired, the touch of serenity that made Mary stand out among her peers faltering, replaced in areas with something akin to mirth or satisfaction. She still had her reservations, but as long as the Bazhoolis had their people on it as well, Mary could continue with their plan without regret. She quickly reassembled her seraphic demeanor, pleasantly nodded to Elizaveta, and entered Her Grace's tent without delay. She was even getting used to the presence of her great white tiger, Myshka, who appeared overjoyed to join them.

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

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: The Museum (Vera's Office)
Skills: N/A (Is being very, very British a skill?)

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The initial lack of confirmation concerning his dear nephew and his disfigured comrade from Vera was understandable; Peter was a rather independent scamp, despite his sterling military record. It was a touch toward the irritating, however. Having just been reunited with family long thought deceased, and then being delayed from meeting up with him again, made the older man rather impatient. "Ah, but this shall not do. It is quite the pity, especially now that the situation has become somewhat more dire, you see." Reginald shook his head, "I do rather wish we were all together, at the least until this emergency passes."

Nora's calculation on the time of arrival did do something to elevate the Lord Major's mood on the subject. "Ah, indeed, Miss Kingston? That is heartening news. I will likely be in the immediate area for the next quarter hour and look forward to our reunion at that time. In the meantime, I shall secure the location and assist Lady Munn in righting the state of her office. If, of course, the local constabulary hasn't cause to give it a once-over first." He turned back to Vera, mentioning, "The others should be along in a few minutes with whatever remains of what we sought in the Archives. If there anything else you may require of me in the interim?"

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

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Newhope - Lady Luck (Table, Main Room)
Skills: Carouse, Perception

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Foy turned his head to the side ever so slightly as Jacqueline continued what he considered a wholly unnecessary slander on his ancestral occupation. Polite society would have treated the situation with more gentility, befitting his breeding and entrepreneurial accomplishments. Even his military contacts would treat him as an asset; maybe not with kid gloves but a certain amount of mutual respect. Even trust. But Society, Industry, and Military were areas in which Foy were most competent and comfortable. These comparatively sticky surroundings where his reputation was not well established did not do well for polite conversation. Point of fact, Foy was certain that the only way he would get an ounce of trust or respect among these people, who were supposed to be his crewmates now (or most of them), would be through a live fire demonstration of his less business-related skills. Sadly, there was not proper opportunity at the moment. Nor would it be a good idea to create such an opportunity. They needed to keep a more-or-less low profile, and opening a torrent of other peoples' blood across the floor would be the extreme opposite of that.

Then he realized what the feminine grifter meant by her last statement, and raised an eyebrow in her direction. "You have an abrupt manner about you, madame. I trust we shall leave each other's anatomy roughly intact, regardless of whatever little adventures into which ensconce ourselves this evening. Or to put it more plainly, I shall appreciate your company upon the dance floor, to partake in a few moment's frivolity. I shall not think less of you if you miss a step, so long as you do not think less of me when I check my wallet upon our cessation." He stepped from behind his chair and offered Jacqueline his arm, "At your pleasure, Miss Croix."

The proper order of conversation generally went to the fairer gender first, followed by others. While Foy had heard every beaming bit of professional confirmation heaped upon him by the fellow Farradayan, he had elected to wait until now to address the man. "Truly, you are a praiseworthy man, Dr. Moreau, to likewise bestow praise with such tact and veracity. I tip my hat to you and your fine family as well, and I am indubitably honored to have the opportunity to service your personal grooming needs. Such are the words of gentlemanly stature, sir. And thusly! Yes, thusly it behooves me to honor your request, at the absolute least. I shall not leave this table until you have sheared the last scrap of wool that your noble hand of cards may clip, indeed!" The hand was seconds away from being over. It was a pause. A throat clear. A handful of heartbeats until toes would tap and heels would shuffle.

Thus spake The Foy.

🦄 The Paradoxical Emendation - Merged With T.S.

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Gilbert Summers, "The Hat"

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Location: Ville au Camp (Nearing Main House -> Main House, Room 106)
Skills: N/A

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Gilbert took Evelina's advice, opening himself up to the extremely recent unfolding of human events. It was just a bit of a stretch, as the term "Human" had to take a broader meaning in this place. Specifically, Gilbert wasn't 100% sure that he ever was human. The Paradoxes were another matter entirely. They were human once, and maybe still were, but changes had obviously come over them to make them very different. But it counted, so far as the Emendators could glimpse into history. If none of them were truly human anymore, then they were close enough.

"No, Evelina's right, Gio. That would be our new Paradox, James. Good thing I checked, too. I could really go for a flame roasted hog this evening." He was only half joking, and that half was quickly shut down by the weight in his arms. Peter Keystone. A man of title and courage. He would have likely earned nobility in his own way were it not handed to him by the circumstances of his birth. A dead man, ripped up and bloody, waiting to rejoin the earth. "He'll figure himself out in a little bit. They always do. And unless I miss my guess, I think another one just stumbled into one of their abilities, too."

The words were a bit lackluster, befitting his mood at the moment. Ponderous steps took him up and into the house, where The Dice reminded him of her preference involving Peter's remains. He nodded gravely, and allowed the same heavy footfalls to carry him around the central area and into the room shared by George and Peter. He really should find and tell George what he was doing, so as to spare him the shock of coming upon his good friend's corpse where he kept all of his personals. With reverence, Gilbert laid Pater's body upon his bed and arranged him out straight, finishing the task by draping a sheet over him. "Best of luck, Peter. Where you go, I do not think I can follow."

Questions of the possibility of afterlife for another time, Gil turned back around and made his way out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind him.

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James Grady

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Location: Ville au Camp (Yard just outside of the Kitchen House)
Skills: Peccary Form (involuntary)

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James was not happy. Not a bit. He carried a grudging respect for the form he had adopted, unwanted though it was. For a couple of decades, he had hunted them as nuisance animals. Even got good enough for some longhaired ginger guy from east Texas to write a folk hero style theme song for him. ...they call him Black James... There was a television program that featured him for a bit there, and he was known besides as a Man of Action, Hog Hunter Extraordinaire. These were skills of his previous life. Even after the world turned into Hell On Earth, wild boar were still his stock and trade. For the longest time, he followed after them, tracked them from place to place, and struck out to find new sounders of hogs. He never over-hunted from one group. He kept tabs on them. James even prevented many a family unit of the porcine beasties from being overrun by hordes of snarling undead. It was his stock and trade. He had survived because of them, and they had survived because of him.

It was still a sharp and shaggy chunk of irony that the veteran Hog Hunter just transformed into a wild boar. Poetic justice, maybe. He had killed a good number of them, even if he did do his part to protect the species as a whole.

His senses were sharp as a boar, especially in the way of his smell and hearing. He could pick up bits of conversation coming from the Kitchen House as soon as he stopped bellowing, mostly concerning the possibility of tackling him. From another direction, he caught a snatch of 'flame roasted hog' in general speech. Just great. His transformation had made him a target. It wasn't until Alicia came running up that he started to collect himself in earnest. Then she had to go and say something that stabbed him right in the feels.

Chocolate Thunder. Damn.

It was a phrase that was used first by the son-of-a-bitch that he had, well, murdered just prior to his own death through unrelated circumstances. The bastard deserved it. James was even willing to die because of his choice, as it meant protecting those he had come to truly care about. But there was guilt. That did it. James began to feel himself slowly shift back, his bristles and tusks receding, limbs lengthening, hard hooves turning into dexterous hands. To his surprise, he was still dressed; the clothing he was wearing seemed to meld into his new form. Still breathing heavily, even shaking slightly, James gave Alicia an appreciative head bob and started to speak.

"I ain't a overly smart man, so lemme get this straight, aight?" There was a edge to his voice that resembled restrained emotion, "Big Man can turn into anybody he want to, and pull all kinda shit out his hat, right? Lady Dice over there can bring muthafuckas back from bein' dead. Not like the Walkin' Dead'uns what we had to deal with, but like alive alive, yeah? We gotta girl what can magic up a goddamn tornado, if'n she's feelin' a little emotional and you can read how someone feels when you ain't runnin' round in they dreams."

He sat up on the ground and pulled himself into a crosslegged position. "But me? I can turn into a pig. Ain't that some shit?" In truth, James could already tell that there were advantages over his human form. He could survive in almost any environment without gear or provisions like that. He could consume anything and not fall ill or even be disgusted by it. He could detect scents like a frigging superpower; not like Sophia's probably but damn powerful. And his hearing was magnified immensely. He was strong, he was tough, he was fast. And from what he knew, coupled with what he could feel from being a boar, he could get much, much stronger. And those tusks... Ouch. Still, he was a pig. It was a little embarrassing.

"I hurt anybody?" he probably should have asked that first.

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

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Keystone

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Location: Deymin's Tower (3F)

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Yes, Keystone had picked another target, for whatever good that did him. He announced his intent to engage with said target in such a manner that might make lesser mens' bowels unclench and empty into their pantaloons in a most undignified manner. But this thing didn't seem to care one way or another. And then it did something that earned it as painful a death as he could administer: It attacked Sana. Keystone had been worried that it was after the pushy, sarcastic archer from the start, which was why he decided to clear a path to the massive creature and engage it in the most direct manner he was able, which obviously would involve the correct and ouchworthy application of metal reinforced pugilism. It was kind of his thing. Obviously, when the thing bit into Sana and then got her into a grapple, Keystone's more protective instincts fueled directly into his rage.

He crossed the distance between the stairs and Sana's attacker as fast as his legs would carry him, arms at the ready. The idea was to remove the beast's spine from his back and beat it back to death with it like a huge, bony bludgeon, but he wasn't quite as lucky as all that. Approaching from a rear flank, Keystone hammered punishing blows into its backbone and kidneys, hoping to quickly render the physical support keeping the thing upright into a more malleable form (prompting its collapse and/or the spine beating thing), but it was a tough bastard. Moreover, it still had a hold on Sana. Damage done. Ugly damage. But a LOT more was required. Time to change the plan.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar Gonzalez

_{His childhood bedroom. Caesar sometimes comes back here to think.}

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Location: La Hacienda
Skills: N/A

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...Upstairs...

Sorting through all of the information was difficult. The coding and format seemed designed to make reading it as difficult and/or as taxing as possible, but the steady stream of information was, presumably, helpful. Only she had no idea why it would have been helpful, not having been dealt in to this particular game of massively high-stakes poker. The thought occurred to her once again that this would make a ton more sense if her Big Bad Uncle gave her any sort of fucking clue as to what happened back in Justice, especially as it concerned the only member of her family she felt she could actually relate to, then maybe, just maybe, it would allow for a single puzzle piece to fit onto another. Right now, she might as well be pulling up the Irish National Anthem. In phonetic Swahili. "Hey Dad, um... does any of this bullshit mean anything to you?"

"No, M'hija. Maybe a name sounds familiar, like I heard it on the news a while back. But no, Caesar never told me anything.

"Then maybe it's time he did.

...Downstairs...

Caesar contented himself by pulling up a random piece of furniture to the tables where the abuelitas had set up the vast majority of the spread of delicacies that Central America had to offer, not the least of which being a whole, roast pig, apple still in its mouth. Other sections were piled high with similar porcine flesh cooked to tender perfection, but Caesar wanted to attack the beast in its natural habitat: A roasting pan. Yes, he was in mourning. Also yes, he was suddenly hungry. Those two pieces of fruit served mostly to arouse his appetite without bedding it back down, and he realized in that moment that he hadn't really eaten in a couple of days. Oh, he had drank a fair amount of alcohol in that time, (that realization reminded him that he still held a bottle of mescal in his hand, prompting him to take a long, painful pull that exploded into his belly like Mexican fire) but food? Not so much. The smell was intoxicating. Or was that the booze? No matter. His Alicia wouldn't want him to starve to death, not until the people responsible for her present, not-alive state elsewhere in the vicinity.

Yes, Alicia. Through the mild buzz of bewormed, golden alcohol, he remembered that he had something of hers. Caesar reached into his back pocket, leaning forward to do so, and pulled out a very fine, stiletto style switchblade. Classic weapon of last resort, or first choice for many out of pure intimidation factor. In this case, Caesar used the weapon to pry out one of the pig's big, round eyes. The iris and pupil were charred somewhat and sunken into the main body of the eye like a concave deviled egg, but that wasn't going to stop him from impaling it on the end of Alicia's switchblade and ripping off a section of it with his teeth like a chewy, malformed lollipop. Mmm, piggy piggy. The aqueous and vitreous humors splashed outward from the ocular party snack in a vision of flame-roasted barbarism. He went after the tongue next. Then the heart. Then his hunger turned him toward... the empanadas.

Caesar's phone buzzed in his vest pocket. He too a moment from his repast to check it. At first, he grew angry. Very angry, prompting him to raise from his seat in a start. Then his brain processed what he had read, starting with the name "Wentworth". He told them not to do any more investigating. Told them directly, and in simple words. But this... he needed to see this. Hell, he needed to let that big son-of-a-bitch (who he was looking forward to beating the crap out of) in California about some of this. Maybe even broadcast the whole of this news to as many sources as possible, just to cover his own back and that of people he still cared about. Should he tell Cecily? If that woman Natasha was in on everything, it could mean the end of the young Coroner. Okay, not yet. Ignorance was not bliss, but it was safer that evening. But now, upstairs.

...back in Justice, Queensguard R&D Industrial Complex...

It took time to run a diagnostic. It took time to get results back from facial recognition software. It took time to gather proper information on current events within a secure facility. Wentworth was the primary interest of concern, but he was the show card. Keystone wanted to know what was being held in hand, close to the vest. Unfortunately, you had to plow through one to get to the other, and this guy... well, he didn't know him, but he didn't trust him a bit. Call it a hunch. He was in a conversation of some kind with a more than fairly buff looking woman. Personal bodyguard, perhaps? Or one of Juno's enforcers? For all he knew, she just snuck into the party because she heard a rumor they were giving out free liquor. He'd done it before, why not others?

Well, while he was taking a lot of fun time waiting on reports to come back, the broad Security Agent known as Johnathon I. Keystone weighed his options in dealing with this man. "Oi, buggerall question, but can we get ears on this Wenty fella?" he spoke into his comm. Meanwhile, Vinters gave a quick glance over to her new boss, wondering how the man became a Director in the first place and why she was so lucky to have a Cockney Jackhole for a superior. A least he looked like a damn handy guy. If stuff became loud and violent, she'd have no problems with holding a line with the man.

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

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: The Museum (Vera's Office)
Skills: N/A (Is being very, very British a skill?)

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"Indeed, Vera dear." began the Lord Major. "It is precisely as Miss Ridgeway has said. There has been a robbery. Moreover, tragedy has struck our Fellowship. The reporter, Haakon, was struck and killed by a crate that fell from above him, in Archives. I know not whether it is related to the theft, but it is a close and suspicious coincidence." The previous look of excitement about starting a new mission had long left his face, replaced by the somber and assertive nature that confirmed Reginald's background in soldiery. "Whatever else is happening to us of a more spiritual nature, it is apparent that there are very real human antagonists involved with this as well."

He sheathed his sword, instead opting to unbutton the case over his Webley revolver. Swinging a blade about in close quarters with Vera around, were an uninvited guest to appear, seemed a little foolhardy. He then took a glance around, noting where everyone else in the group was or where they were going. A new threat, to be sure, but one that could be stopped with the proper application of bullets. He desired to keep tabs on what he grudgingly would come to refer to as His People. And speaking of which, there was one that was unaccounted for. "Ah, I say, Lady Munn... Would you happen to know wherever my dear nephew Peter has gotten himself off to? The nature of our expedition is growing dark, and we've only just gotten him back, you see."