Sigil

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

---

---

Ash Holloway

---

Location: Quarantine (Conference Room)
Skills: N/A

---

---

The proverbial cat was now out of its equally proverbial burlap enclosure, and Ash was feeling very confident about the future of his Newnan refugees. Of course, the second he officially accepted citizenship within Camp Mexico Beach (contingent upon its offer, of course), he waived what authority he had to call them his Newnan refugees in anything but an informal, friendly basis. It was an odd feeling, knowing that he was going to be signing away personal responsibility for the lives of these people. He had gotten that feeling before, years ago, whenever an assignment was coming to an end. And naturally, part of that final moment had to contain the knowledge that he was leaving that which he was responsible for in capable hands. Otherwise, he would have done them a disservice.

Ash had seen a little of how this place operated. And he knew much about the reputation of the man in charge of this community, having read much about him in textbooks and serving alongside men who had been under his command. Actually meeting the guy showed greater nuance to his personality. There was the smallest lingering piece of doubt, though it was not about the Camp nor the intent of its inhabitants. Ash wondered how many of these people had to struggle to survive in the world, as it was today. Did they have to repel invaders? Had many of them been forced to make hard choices to ensure survival of their group as a whole? True, they had much, arguably more than Newnan had at their disposal at its best, but could they continue after the bones of the previous civilization, the one they had been born into, had been picked clean? In that instance, or any other sweeping paradigm shift, Camp Mexico Beach might just need people like his: New blood that wasn't afraid of hard work and had to survive in the badlands that the rest of the world had become. So long as they weren't doing something stupid or painting themselves as potential enemies.

He could even be wrong about that assumption. There was much he yet needed to know. But his mind was already made up; warts or no, Ash was putting his name on the dotted line. If he could stay here with Thana, contributing to the safety and well-being of this community, he was going to go exactly that. Especially seeing that those he came in with likewise had the opportunity to become part of the Camp.

His attention was still mostly on Thana during this time. Considering the nature of their meeting earlier, this appeared highly subdued. Ash cracked a little smile at the thought. He had his own concerns about everyone else seeing her for the first time in months; emotions may be high and definitely mixed. Snatches of conversation he has picked up gave this reunion a possibility of uncertainty. He was pleased to see that the feel of the room thusfar was gratitude and elation. And though she could obviously handle herself, he yet felt the need to keep a subtle eye on the situation.

---

---

Thalia Carmichael

---

Location: Quarantine (Conference Room)
Skills: N/A

---

---

Part Terminator? That dirty, underhanded bitch. How Thalia had missed her. Granted, the arm wasn't ideal but it beat the hell out of having no arm at all. And to be fair, she really didn't have the time yet to get fully used to it. It was a wonderful piece of equipment, though. And from the looks of things, Thana had a bit of reconstructive work done herself. "Oh, you whore!" she exclaimed, mock aghast. "It's fine, but it's really hard to play with myself with this thing. Frigging Zeds, right?" She said it like it was way back Before and she was forced to go with her second choice of automobile from a rental company. Yeah, it sucked, but she was alive and she had a metal fist with which to beat the living daylights out of people who pissed her off.

As for Thana's following comment, Thalia shook her head. "It's not 'cause I'm stubborn, girl." Her voice was deadpan serious, though her eyes showed deliberate intensity, "So much more left to do. Gotta keep moving forward." Okay, maybe it was because she was stubborn. Of all the negative traits that she had, Thalia wasn't going to let herself be defined by "stubborn". Not when there were other, more provocative options to choose from.

Thalia had more to say to the woman. It would have to wait until others got their chance with her. They had another day in Quarantine, she was sure that she could wiggle in some time between now and then. She did give a listen and agree with Thana as she gave Manny her own personal seal of approval. She didn't feel right giving him a salute like her friend did; Thana was actual military. The most that Thalia could claim was independent contractor or company girl. There were similarities in structure and duties, but traditions of the military were such that she didn't feel comfortable emulating them. Though truth be told, she did find out that she would have made a passable Norse shieldmaiden, racial differences notwithstanding. But she had to train hard for that. That mental foray into history aside, Thalia had to agree with Thana. And out loud, too.

"I never said it out loud, Manny, for a couple reasons... if it wasn't for you I'd be dead. Thank yah." She gave a halfhearted laugh, "We're not going to hug about it, either. You stay over there. But you are one hell of a medic in a pinch."

---

---

Hank Wright

---

Location: Quarantine (Conference Room)
Skills: N/A

---

---

Hank grabbed up an unattended deck of cards and started thumbing through them. With everything going on that was highly emotionally charged, he felt even more like an outsider than he did a few days ago. Sure, he was a lot more comfortable with the surroundings of Quarantine, but his emotional investment in the people around them all was limited.

Getting to know a lot of these people over the past week was kind of a double edge sword. Hank had a knack for sizing people up, yet his own gruff, steely demeanor kept a lot of people at a distance. Maybe it was influence from his hetero lifemate, a man who was able to push others away with unrivaled skill. But it might be more accurate to say of the people around him that they had formed into different groups of mutual support. Now that they were put into a position where they no longer had to rely on each other for mere survival, they were reorienting themselves based upon less immediate factors. And predictably, if Hank wasn't needed, then he wasn't particularly wanted.

In the end, it usually wound up coming back to he and Wayne anyway. Like Yule Brenner was fond of saying in The Ten Commandments movie (the original '56 version, not that animated crap with the guy from Top Gun; not that Hank didn't find Top Gun to be one hell of a movie too (even if it was about navy pilots which he could take or leave) but it was no Ten Commandments was all he was saying, though by now he had horribly mentally digressed at this point in time) ...ahem... Like Yule Brenner/Ramses II was fond of saying, "So let it be written, so let it be done." From the look of how things were progressing in Quarantine, the people they seemed to be getting along with best were from CMB anyway. Panama was an asshole but so were they, and Gunny revealed as much about himself as Hank did through some manner of mysterious asshole telepathy, which was hard to explain but fun to describe. Maybe the Captain. Jury was still out about that guy, even though he could launch a solid brood like it was an Olympic sport.

But speaking of the perpetually smacked around Army guy - Hank settled back down into the recliner next to Wayne's just as he was calling the guy a lucky bastard, still shuffling about the deck of cards. "Aw hell, Maldonado. At least someone's getting some action, and for crap's sake that guy looked like he needed it." A thought gave him reason for a quick subject change, "Hey, d'ya think we could ask these guys to live on a fishing boat?" He shrugged, considering the possibilities.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

---

---

Caesar & Keystone

---

Location: Grimm Indiana (Heading Towards Tinder's Place)
Skills: N/A
Skills: N/A

---

---

The difficulty with participating in an investigation was that, no matter how skilled an investigator one might be, nor how sharp one's eyes might be, nor even how amazing one's deductive reasoning might be, it made absolutely no matter in the slightest if the hypothetical Master Investigator couldn't get to the place the needed to investigate. Such it was with our intrepid, often anti-heroic protagonists, Caesar and Keystone. Perhaps the two got a little confused with the directions as they sat in their perspective seats, wondering about the odd nature of how they both tended to go by one name only; Caesar by his first without need to move along to his surname unless paperwork was in order, and Keystone almost exclusively by his last despite having the perfectly serviceable first name of Johnathon. Then again, he never really felt like a John. But that was beside the initial point, that being that they had only the vaguest idea as to where they might have turned up on the roads of Grimm, Indiana.

The good news was that, it being a smaller town, there were only a couple of main roads from which everything branched. Locating the proper address was inevitable, especially with the proper information at their disposal. The bad news was that their electronics were not quite as reliable in this place as they might have been in Chicago. Or any place between there and Chicago. It wasn't that huge of a leap for Caesar to make, seeing as more of his professional years were spent before the technological revolution of the 1990s than after it, and Keystone, well... for a confirmed urbanite, he really didn't give much of a rat's hindquarters about the sudden loss of wholly reliable GPS, being as he didn't really get to use any of the good, expensive stuff until he grew up a little. Of course, being in the more rural-ish parts of a strange country (and YES, this is a strange country to people who spent most of their life on the other side of an ocean), it still irked him not to have a clear technological advantage.

No matter. Getting turned around in an environment like this was inevitable, as was getting back on track. Even if it was a simple matter of "No, not this street, this street". Once more firmly back on what they assumed was track, the mood elevated within the SUV. Not much, mind you, and it was not as if they were having a big party in the SUV in the first place, but every little bit helped in circumstances like this. Keeping to the tradition of both men grunting or growling during times of mild annoyance, it could be fairly said that such things lessened a bit once they laid eyes on new scenery.

Strangely enough, part of that new scenery was the hauntingly lonely sight of a single balloon, listlessly being pushed in the wind yet unable to really go anywhere due to being caught in a tree. It just hung there, powerless to do anything about its circumstance, at the mercy of the elements around it. Considering the generally pleasant weather, it might have actually been there a while. Might. And this pleasantness of course did not account for the huge plume of smoke in the distance, coupled with a resulting haze that gave the town of Grimm a rather ominous feel; the discarded floaty balloon did not assist in that matter in the least. However, viewing the whole picture as optimistically, they were back on track. They thought. Time would tell - hopefully it would tell soon. That much testosterone in an enclosed vehicle was potentially bad for one's health.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

---

---

Vladimir Alexandrov

---

---

Location: Gretna Green
Skills: Fal'shbort (Passive), Tretiy Glaz (Passive), English

---

Vladimir swung himself from his saddle with flair and the barest hint of shininess, landing deftly upon his sturdy yet flexible boots. He walked a step or two over toward Elizaveta, arms outstretched to sweep her up into a big bear hug. Yet this was not to be the usual sort of meeting between people that, while of differing social strata, held to each other with taut familiarity. And no small amount of native color in common. No, the Grand Duchess had a very real concern that needed to be voiced and dealt with. Then they might make with the hugging and the drinking and the very amiable observances of nostalgia that made them truly of one people. Then of course, the actual reason that they were there. There was an order to these things. All in good time.

"I am not knowing, Grand Duchess!" admitted The Great Bazhooli with some dramatized dismay. "I cannot speak to exactness of vhat makes for Soulless in country ve stand on anymore. Things ve have seen... ah, but vas not from natural. Angry dark vind tears through and does damage within instant! Poor Master Zimmer, friend and ally, has fallen to treachery and and foulness of dark vind. But... But! Could not stop him from showing us paths for to get to you, my Grand Duchess. He dies hero. Soulless killing him? I do not know. I vould not take chance. Vhat are you thinking, Constantin Firevalker?"

Vladimir had a lot to say right then. Much needed to be processed and reported upon, but the urgent and secretive nature of their primary reason for being there prompted a little subtlety, such as The Great Bazhooli, in any incarnation throughout the ages, could hold any claim upon direct subtlety. "Безопасно ли говорить перед этими людьми, Елизавета?"

Translations

1 = Is it safe to speak in front of these people, Elizaveta?

🦄 Machiavellian Masquerade - Chapter 1

Dr. Swamp

≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎
Location: Shadowell Manor: State Dining Room (3F) -> Attic (Laboratory)
Skills: N/A
Hit Points: 2
≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎

The absolute and self-righteous delusions of importance of the masses of mewling and squirming "guests", verbally assassinating his character before having so much as three words with him. Most of them not even one. It would have been a pitiable thing, really, except that cast blame in a confined space often led to real danger. People trapped together might not elect a leader from among themselves, but throw any sort of stress into the mix and they would work hard to find someone to hate. Otherwise, the Doctor would have been much happier walking away from this whole, disgusting affair, blackmail or no. There might have been other opportunities. Walnut's story certainly seemed to agitate matters, despite the report of witnesses. Well, speak a story enough times and someone was sure to be influenced by it, regardless of external contradiction.

Swamp was eager to have this chapter of his life over and done with so that he could return to his work, far, far away from these people. His presentmost regret, however, was that he did not have the time to tell these people what he thought of their self-serving and poisonous vitriol, aimed at the one person who was actually trying to do something about their shared situation - that would be the good Doctor - before the task was taken care of for him by the Lady Oriold.

Rock the boat he would not. Not right now, of course. There was a mystery that he was uniquely qualified to investigate. His personal feelings would have to be set aside, and besides that it would feel centering to get back to his chosen occupation. Once they reached the Laboratory, Swamp allowed himself a moment to take everything in. This was more than he required for a simple postmortem examination. Much more. Whatever went on in this room, specifically, he could not help but wonder. "Thank you, Quinton. I shall do my best for your Lord. First, we must familiarize ourselves with the work area." He looked to Amaranthine, "Madame, you look cold. Perhaps we might find a lab coat or something suitable, if you would prefer it?"

🦄 The Paradoxical Emendation - Merged With T.S.

---

---

Gilbert Summers

---

Location: Ville au Camp (Swamp - Walking toward Exit)
Skills: N/A

---

Gilbert could have facepalmed at the sheer, blanket idiocy that he had been displaying for all of this time. Of course they had a procedure for this. He wondered exactly how it got in his head in the first place that this was a wholly unprecedented event. If procedure existed, then this must have happened before, and the circumstances that led up to the last few times were rapidly gathering right then. It stood to reason that this might have been something they should have drilled over the course of the past year and a half with the new Paradoxes, and as such they might have a decent grasp on what was necessary as well. Gilbert would just have to trust that they knew what to do from their individual standpoints.

Gathering his wits about him, Gil merely turned and spoke to all still present who were not acting according to procedure, "It is time. I understand that much has happened to account for piqued interest, but it is of the utmost of importance for us all to exit the grounds in an orderly fashion. The clearest signpost that designates this is the gate at the main entrance. If the date clicks over to the first without other mishap, perhaps we might be able to salvage what we may from the grounds afterward. If not, I am The Hat. I can provide. Please, let us move." Gilbert looked back to Peter, "I apologize that your welcome back is so understated. We all have questions. But please, we should ask them of each other after this is handled."

---

---

James Grady

---

Location: Ville au Camp (Swamp -> Walking toward Exit)
Skills: N/A

---

James looked at everyone around him blankly, as if he had no idea what was going on nor what might happen next. He gave a sort of half-hearted smile to Peter, the Paradox that he never got to meet personally while he was alive. British fella. Cultured accent. And he didn't wish to delve into a man's personal tequila. He seemed like a stand-up sort of man, for someone who just came back from the dead for the second time. "Aight, suit y'self," he said, lowering the bottle. "Offer's still there in case you change that mind though, 'k?" he added before turning around, heeding the words of the taller Emendator. It seemed that no one knew anything that was going on right then except for the pale Siduri, and now she was the one calling all the shots. Overtly, as the Emendators all deferred to her, it seemed like the thing to do, but deep in James's head something about all this still seemed off. He couldn't quite place why, though.

On his way toward the Gates, he came across Andromeda, Sophia, and Giosue. The Watch seemed to be concentrating on something potentially important (James could only assume it had to do with the Loop, though it might be a decent enough guess considering the present emergency) so he instead spoke to the women present. Starting with Sophia, "Dunno if'n everythang's gonna be alright once we get off the grounds, but that's what we gotta do now. Hell, it'll probably be both hunky and dory. These folks know what they're doin'." At least, James really hoped that they did.

Addressing Andromeda's question, "That really white lady did somethin'. Says it's only temporary, so I don't know what happens after or when after is... it's all voodoo to me, girl." He extended a hand to the alabaster haired Paradox, saying in notes he hoped were comforting, "C'mon, they got this. Let's get gone." He pointed in the general direction of the main Gate. "Figure it out when we out there."

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

---

---

Reginald Keystone

---

Location: Athribis (Underground)
Skills: N/A

---

---

"Yes, thank you, quite." mused the Lord Major, igniting one of Mahendra's torches and clapping his lighter back shut. It was a much better alternative than the smallish flame put out by the converted shell casing. With more adequate illumination allowing the more scholarly of their number to assess the tiles in front of them, Reginald focused his attention there. Not to imagine in any way that he could be of any greater assistance than the minds already on the task; though he did have specific training in codes and cyphers, he did not read the pictographs of the ancient Egyptians except for the odd symbol or two that might have been pointed out by someone else. No, the proper heads were put to the task, such that they had available.

The clicking came as serious surprise to Reginald who, by sheer programming of a life of gentlemanly expectations, reached out in the midst of this to receive his flask back from Bella with a proper, "My pleasure," just prior to her vanishing down a mechanically opened aperture beneath her feet. When the events seemed to catch back up to his ability to process at a decent rate, the Lord Major was aghast. Her man, J.C., had not returned as of yet and he had pledged his service to the younger woman as escort. This was a pledge that others might have taken lightly, but when The Lord Major Reginald Illiam Keystone sets to the task, it is done to the utmost of his ability, even unto notable, glorious departure from this, our mortal coil!

Reginald unbuckled his sword and whipped off his dusty grey officer's coat and cap, presenting them to Lauren, along with the answer to her question: "We shall continue with the mission, dear girl." The words had all the noble bearing he could muster. "Make sure my Man gets these if I do not return, and tell him 'thank you' for his service - he now takes my role in the Fellowship. God help Vera and I pray she forgives me..." He plopped down at the side of the recently opened hole with his feet dangling inside, and with a deep breath (and oddly satisfied grin), called a rousing, "Tally ho!" before entering the darkness after Bella.

Roll Request

Character current location: Athribis, Underground
Characters attempted actions: Following Bella
Any and all skills being used: Umm... Fortitude? Dexterity? Britishness? Not 100% sure.
Why each skill is being called: Jumping headlong into the unknown
Desired location of the character: Anyplace but the afterlife. Yeah, down the hole.

---

---

Haring Reddish

---

Location: Benha (Elite Deck)
Skills: Stealth, Investigation/Espionage

---

---

Well, if nothing else, the lack of decent security aboard this vessel would have to be addressed. Why, they didn't even leave guards in front of the doors, and here there was such a fuss earlier over people staying aboard! Reddish figured that the story would be much, much different in the good fighting men of His Royal Majesty's Armed Forces were involved, yes indeed! No more of this mysterious missing ticket hooey, nor the random ransacking of their rooms for reasons as yet undisclosed, known, or suspected. No more magically disappearing items that were safely under lock and key just moments before, no sir! It was as if no one could ever be able to sleep soundly ever again! Not even if presented with the opportunity.

Well, all for the best, he supposed, that he never got the opportunity to work on his gifts of moving quietly nor making trained investigation of the immediate area. He would have been forced to change tactic anyway, due to the calls for help inside of the room - calls from the adoptive niece of the Lord Major himself! Such a thing would not do. As Reddish made ready to pull his service revolver and blow the lock out of the door, he was gently moved aside by Josephine. Stunned by the action, he watched as she proceeded to assault the door with a straight kick (and in stylish shoes, no less!), knocking it open like a ripe melon. She then entered the stateroom and began to handle the situation like a seasoned professional.

Stepping inside, Reddish's inquisitive nature got the better of him, as he began to scrutinize details of the room as best he could given the circumstances. As he looked, he remarked, "Sweet Fanny Adams, Miss Clarke! You just booted the bloody door to shambles, you did! Twixt that and the witchy-powers, if you'll excuse the expression, I'd feel safer if you'd be my escort, and not the other way about." He turned back around and gave Josephine an impressed look, all the while taking stock of their surroundings.

Roll Request

Character current location: Boat, Cabin
Characters attempted actions: Taking stock of surroundings
Any and all skills being used: Investigation/Espionage
Why each skill is being called: Something seems fishy about the situation
Desired location of the character: N/A

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

---

---

Ash Holloway

---

Location: Quarantine (Conference Room)
Skills: N/A

---

---

Well, Ash did expect comments. It would be kind of hard not to when you leave looking forlorn but mostly intact, then return hours later smiling but leaving the distinct impression that you were dragged from the back of a truck. He gave Tatiana only the slightest of nods when she made comment about his emotional status, but still said nothing. It was by design. Simple observance led him to believe that there were a couple of people, Tati included, that were decent at looking a man over. His own group, such as it was, wasn't too bad at putting two and two together. Saying anything out loud might have allowed a detail to slip that would make him involuntarily break his promise to keep a lid on certain things; things that have occurred already and certain things that were yet to come, depending on vantage. Likewise, there were probably things that he was not made privy to. Any such spillage might very well color the remainder of their time and lead to unneeded expectations. Being quiet was best.

Time passed in relative quiet, the occasional whispers aside that he could only assume was aimed at him mixing with the general conversation of the room. Ash didn't mind too much, he was processing a lot of stuff at the moment. Much of it was hopeful. Some of it provoked concern. He spent his time in a review of sorts, going over the past year and a half. For once, he wasn't scrutinizing mistakes he had made, but rather looking at what he had learned over their ordeal. It was a dark time for them all. It was also pointless unless he could take the lessons of it all and apply them going forward.

It was another couple of hours later - just less than his own interview took - that things came to light. The pair of them entering the Conference Room in Quarantine did not look like it came as a surprise to Ash, who stood immediately upon their arrival. He briefly toyed with the idea of calling the room to attention, a playful action at best considering the lack of former military personnel within their groups, made even more dubious by the fact that the lady in question was in the Navy, not the Army. Why, it would simply be inappropriate!

Giving several nanoseconds of consideration, Ash decided to go for it anyway. He was beginning t0 feel a little like his old self, and damnit, this was a cause for celebration. He opened his mouth to speak, when he was cut off by Tatiana, endearingly calling him an ass in Russian. He just shrugged, a smirk forming across his face that, while he fought valiantly to suppress, showed itself anyway. It was followed in rapid succession by Wayne proclaiming (loudly) to have his suspicions of Ash's success in exhaustive, mid-coital pursuits.

Well, to hell with it. "In for a penny", as the saying went. Attention was already directed, and it was a matter of two seconds or less until the initial shock of her presence wore off enough to allow for a reaction from the others. In the tradition of Thana's naval courtesies, Ash stood at Parade Rest and issued a confident, "Officer on deck."

Simultaneously, Ash extended his middle finger skyward, facing in the general direction of Wayne. The look on his face was smug and shameless, peering at the man in a way that screamed, "Yes, yes I did. Huzzah." Refocusing on Thana, Ash thought he knew what she was trying to convey with the look and the nod in the direction of the remainder of what used to be Team Eden. They needed their own moment. Ash was not going to interrupt.

---

---

Thalia Carmichael

---

Location: Quarantine (Conference Room)
Skills: N/A

---

---

The thing about Thalia was, despite the tendency to keep others at arms' length, once someone got inside they found a woman of channeled loyalty. Surely enough that it could handle a few days of distance, even if that distance was from someone sitting in the same room. Things had been tense with everyone lately, and it was fully expected that situations may change once the four of them weren't clinging to each other for survival. This was that time.

"Yeah, you are a bitch," said Thalia flatly. She gave a small, holdout smile and continued, "It's why I like ya. We're good, girl." Thalia knew that neither of them were the touchy-feely type, so she left it with a statement: "I gaht reasons to be here for a while. I hope you stick around, too. Figure the other stuff out later, 'k?" With an only slightly sarcastic whisper, she added, "If you want to hug, we'll do it away from people." Nodding slowly, failed to hide a growing smile. Of course Beatrice was a bitch. Luckily, so was Thalia. It was intrinsic to their collective charm, sort of.

The day came to a new, sweeping crescendo when the doors opened again to admit two more people into Quarantine. One was a big, dark-skinned guy who obviously bought into the old "Got Milk" commercials. The other was hiding behind him. Female. Military garb, more or less. When she finally stepped out and said a word or two, Thalia's train of thought jumped its tracks and plowed into an orphanage.

Thalia took a step or two in the direction of Thana, slightly dazed, waiting for the last pieces of the puzzle to click in her conscious thought. She waited until the blonde called "Checkbook" stepped away from the lady and made her move. Approaching cautiously at first, Thalia took in as much detail about her as possible. There was still a lingering bit of disbelief. After all, she had been missing for a long time. Thalia honestly thought that she was dead. It was the only reason she could think of that Thana wouldn't have returned to them. Confusion and negativity flashed through her for a second, but that quickly changed into pity and relief, looking at her full-on. Ok, she wasn't dead. It looked like she'd been through some shit, though. The kind of shit that would explain a four month delay.

When Thalia got to her, she didn't ask any questions. She just wrapped her in a surprisingly strong embrace and said through joyous tears, "It's so good to see you, Navy. You look like shit." before backing off a little. She wanted to get a good look at her, if only to prove again that this was really her, and alive.

---

---

Hank Wright

---

Location: Quarantine (Conference Room)
Skills: N/A

---

---

In contrast to a lot of the people in the room, Hank had no real emotions invested in everything tha was going down right then. The Captain guy made a pretty good showing of not making a showing, as it were, essentially shutting down any means of meaningful communication. Not so much as a verbal smoke signal as to what happened during his interview. There were a lot of emotions running high and so much discussion, and for once Hank was happy that he wasn't in the middle of this. It didn't stop him from making observations about these people, though. Part of any survival plan with other people had to include their interpersonal relationships and what they thought of each other. Really know where you stood.

For his benefit, Hand would rather stand next to a steak and a beer while the emotions flapped around him. But back to business, Hank stayed uncharacteristically subdued after Ash came back, feeling a sense of foreboding like something was about to happen. It certainly seemed like it might, like the air around them was tensing for some other shoe to drop. For now, observe. Whatever it was would reveal itself in its own time.

When it finally did, Hank couldn't help but give a good-natured chuckle. Wayne was right, it appeared. His ability to "detect" from back in his cop days was coming in handy, and finally even he realized that this woman coming in the Quarantine (armed, he might add) was the daughter of the guy who interviewed him. Ah, the joys of simple, social mathematics. But if she was in here... Well, it was just more questions that would be revealed in time.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

---

---

Caesar & Keystone

---

Location: Grimm Indiana (Outskirts)
Skills: N/A
Skills: N/A

---

---

As odd as it may have sounded in hindsight, the two men in the somewhat out-of-place SUV came to this place for the purpose of locating and tracking down a person presumed to be dead, while simultaneously hoping to stumble upon some ancient artifact (or two, if lucky) for which the Big Bad of their era was also searching. Naturally, there was jack and shit for a lead, except that the man for whom they were searching came from this town. So far as the dice were concerned, whatever lead fell in their lap would have to suffice. One thing at a time, until something solid came up.

Along the way into town proper, Caesar unexpectedly jerked his head to the side, apparently seeing something of extreme interest by the side of the road. Between that and the (probably) unnecessary jerking of the vehicle's steering wheel in the direction the older man was staring, Keystone was jolted out of whatever mind-blanking thought and/or meditative practice he was currently ensconced, up to and including considering the benefits of nodding off for a moment or two. "Fongin' 'ell you doing, y'old bast- um, Boss?"

Ignoring the dangerous skirting into disrespect, Caesar answered with a guttural growl of, "Phone booth," and pulled into the adjacent parking lot. He jumped out of the SUV and jogged with determination over to the booth in question.

Keystone felt a little confused. He brought the window down a bit, giving thought to yelling after his boss (and grandfather to his baby son) from his seat. In the end, he decided to give him the respect of his sarcasm from a standing position. He huge man opened the door and set his feet on the ground, only then addressing his employer with the jab of, "Huh? 'Phone booth'? Tryin' for a place to put on y'bloody superhero costume, are ya?" The extension of Caesar's middle finger without actually looking back at the man was answer enough.

Maybe it was possible that, living his formative years in a major metropolitan area and being decades younger than the grizzled Mexican, Keystone didn't get the concept of the phone booth. Not the booth itself, but what lay inside of it; traditionally there was a paper and ink phone directory listing the names of all people with telephone numbers and their addresses. Keystone spent a lot of time in Central Asia as well, where, like this town, technology didn't always keep up with the rest of the world. There might have been an opportunity for him to put two and two together for the phone book idea, but that moment passed when he saw the older man lay his hands on the now antiquated directory and crack it open. "Aaaaaah..."

In a very average act of personal technological updating, Caesar input the data from the phonebook into his sat phone and sent the info to his associate's, then returned to the company vehicle. Keystone scanned the message, climbed back in, and looked to his employer. "Tinder place? Might as well. Got any questions for the fam' lined up?"

"I'll make them up when I get there." And why not? Out of the two of them, he was the investigator. As the SUV pulled back onto the road, Caesar set to locating a means to find the address from the directory he just left, which mostly meant having Keystone do it while he drove. Before bothering with small matters like setting up a staging point and reestablishing proper communications with the home office, let alone informing local law enforcement of their presence in town, Caesar jumped right into his investigation of a man who he now believed to be alive, that he wanted to see dead anyway, and in the most painful, humiliating way possible.

Next stop - Hopefully the childhood home of Marc Tinder.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

---

---

Vladimir Alexandrov

---

---

Location: Gretna Green
Skills: Fal'shbort (Passive), Tretiy Glaz (Passive), English

---

With much in the way of cost in terms of life and some personal hardship besides, the representatives of the Russian Imperial Circus entered the edge of Gretna Green, their fine horses slowed to a more cautious walk. Vladimir let out a dramatic sigh. "Ve have arrived, Constantin. Last vay of Ludvig, German finder-of-paths has been traveled to conclusion." He nodded with a feeling of grim yet nostalgic certainty. The man had passed, but his last piece of work had been fulfilled. "Ve have arrived," he repeated, though now it felt less like the end of something and more like the beginning of the real labors. "Constantin Firevalker, ve may yet find holy place for Master Zimmer. But living, living must be first." Granted, the plan that involved the living had them arriving in Gretna Green and crashing a wedding, thusly fulfilling the quest of the Grand Duchess, Lady Crypt, and the Scary Catholic Girl, which might or might not actually involve finding a holy place anyway. Vladimir mulled this thought over for a second or two, then shrugged. Da, okays. Church maybe first."

Naturally, he was paying little attention to the throng of people escaping from the center of town. Unless they were screaming about Soulless, Vlad was content to allow whatever disturbance was going on to wait for a moment or two. He was having a mildly dramatic moment. Add to this the movement of people perpendicular to the general path of the townsfolk, which he immediately snapped his head toward.

Vladimir's eyebrows began an epic climb, ascending his forehead with the speed and desperation of an escaping convict. At first, he thought that his eyes must be playing tricks on him. He wasn't as young as he once was, and this could be an example of wishful thinking playing with failing eyesight or early senility. It wasn't until he heard a Russian accent calling their names that he allowed the exuberance of the situation to claim him. "HA!" he wordlessly exclaimed into the heavy Scottish air. "I am saying again, vith manyfolded happys: HA!" Vladimir looked to his traveling companion, the joy evident upon his face, "Constantin! Vill you not join me in grand and ear-breaking HAing?" He shook his head vigorously, pointing in the direction of the approaching women, "Vill demonstrate again!" He indeed did. HA!"

The generation's incarnation of The Great Bazhooli located his fine, tall hat from among his belongings purely for the purpose of setting it on his head, whipping it off in a grandiose fashion, and waving it toward Elizaveta and company. But first, he lifted himself out of his saddle, planted his feet where he was sitting, and stood tall atop his great, ebon stallion. One hand waved his hat about, while the other lofted a large and sharp item from his person, as if to confirm from a distance that yes, he was indeed The Great Bazhooli, Russian Knife Guy Extraordinaire.

Plopping back down in his saddle, Vlad turned his horse, Tolstoy(!), in the general direction of the two women and directed it thusly. Looking back to Constantin, "Object of qvest is here! Master Ludvig has succeeded. Now is our turn."

🦄 Machiavellian Masquerade - Chapter 1

Dr. Swamp

≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎
Location: Shadowell Manor: State Dining Room (3F)
Skills: Intelligence
Hit Points: 2
≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎

It was an interesting series of differing of psychologies that Swamp witnessed from those around the dining room. Apathy, hysteria, classic narcissism, not to mention a boatload of histrionics, manifest in basic attention-seeking. Or the additional fun of what appeared to be total obliviousness to that which was going on around them. It might actually be an impossibility to get this gaggle of misfits to agree upon a course of action in common, even something as basic to survival as exiting a burning building. Well, at least Swamp could attempt something useful to the situation, though it got him shot the last time.

The first person to address him directly on the matter received his attention. It was Jasper. "Indeed, sir. Whatever charming aliases were applied to all of us, the person who sent the invitation did at least get my title correct." He did not quite wish to impart more personal information than he absolutely had to, owing to the observed nature of most of those around him.

The Chanteuse had a bit to say, first to the nurse attending the lady who had an incident with the flatware and then to the woman who has recently shot him, Walnut. He didn't add anything to the conversation as it sat, perfectly content to deal with the puzzle he had at hand. When she took his arm and spoke to him, however, he cold not help but respond to her polite offer of help. "I may actually require assistance, as you mention it, Amaranthine. Thank you." If nothing else, an extra set of eyes while he worked would be extremely useful. Swamp had to admit that she did have a talented touch with a needle applied to skin. It was something particularly useful in his work. The last person who volunteered to assist him didn't work out very well. Swamp was confident that this time would be different. "Yes, let us get out of others' way and attend to the fallen Lord Bardolf."

Approaching the man, Swamp did not see the telltale signs of anything obvious. He pulled out a notepad and began to jot down some observations. "Jasper, yes?" he inquired, more to establish who he was speaking to and not to confirm his name. "I should require something more than a cursory glance to fit this puzzle together. Is there a more suitable place where one may operate?"