Recent Statuses

2 yrs ago
Current Sound reasoning: Finish the painting for the miniatures you have before acquiring more. Me: Naaaaah,
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2 yrs ago
And we are officially back.
3 yrs ago
To write again...that is the question...
3 yrs ago
Of course life continues forward like this. We may be closing in on the bitter end of my time here.
1 like
3 yrs ago
Just Exalted this weekend, that and determining the future of Salem at this rate.


Martial Arts, Writing, Reading, Coroner (No I'm not dead, I work there), Video games, and my friends. There: My life in a nutshell.

I do the Sci-fi, fantasy, urban fantasy, Dark fantasy and steampunk thing when it comes to roleplays. I'm pretty straight forward

I Gm this:
Due North

I Play a character in this/these:

Most Recent Posts

No worries. I'll give some people a minute to post before I respond
Lord Alexander Northam

At the sudden appearance of Lena, Lord Northam took a tact step out of the way of her sweeping presence. It was always a frightening thing to see with her despite his station he always had felt like he was in her way. Perhaps it was a holdover from his youth when she had been a spinster that the family had hired on to fill out the kitchen staff. All of the sudden the kitchen was feeling rather full. Watching as she poured at the ‘witches brew’ he shot a look at Mary to see her reaction. Lena was many things but tactful was really not one of them. At Least for now the kitchen seemed to hold the same protection it had in his youth. Perhaps that had something to do with Lena’s presence here. It was largely her realm after all.

With another sweeping move she left the kitchen on a mission to the gardens. It was nice to see that some things never truly changed. A slight grin curled the corner of his mouth as he watched the sweep of her skirts vanish out of the kitchen.

The banging out the outer door heralded the approach of another and as he turned he started again. It was his Lady wife. Still without any proper english tea he held in the exasperated sigh. It was clear that it was morning in Manor North as she immediately lit into him. He was about to tune her out as being obnoxious and childish as she started in about breakfast and then accused him of leaving some papers in her room. As he drew breath to inform her that there was no reason he would have had to leave such a thing in her room he heard something about his piano being out of tune.

“I don’t play Pi….”

He trailed off as he stared at her for a long moment. The feeling was back again. It was really starting to irk him that since he had returned it seemed like the thing happened atleast four times a day if not more.

“What Piano-”

The inquisition was cut short by the appearance of of Walter. The lanky, tall, slightly dapper, and perpetually dour english butler looked down at him from behind is spectacles. It was a rather impressive feat as Lord Northam was not short. It was just that Walter was tall. The man was the product of a welsh and Scottish family, no one was really sure how old the butler was. In all honesty Alexander wasn’t even really sure if he had aged since his childhood. The same lines were on his face and the same frame moved with assurity as it had some decades prior.

“Good morning Walter.”

The man sniffed gently.

“Good morning m’Lord. If you had rang I would have brought you the tea ma’self.” the brogue was only slightly detectable in his words. Years serving a proper english household had smoothed out the speech patterns. He realized that Walter was asking for an explanation without asking for an explanation as questioning the head of the household was a preposterous thing to do. Alexander silently scrambled for an reason that did not involved being afraid of ghosts and would explain why he was not enjoying what should have been his honeymoon.

“aahhh...I was…” he paused before looking up at Walter who seemed to loom at little closer at the beginning of the sentence. “...just going to bring my wife a spot of tea this morning in bed and I thought that perhaps I could retrieve it myself. As there was no one readily here I thought maybe I could…” he trailed off as he was about to suggest that he was going to circumvent the household staff. For him it was of no consequence as he had been making his own tea for years now but thing were different in this strange microcosm that was Manor North.

“You- You know Walter you appeared just in the nick of time I was going to go looking for someone to handle the preparations. Unfortunately the tea in the bedroom will not be happening though as Lady Cora appears to be an equally early riser.” This seemed to satisfy the old butler who began the process of preparing the tea. Taking up a spot next to one of the engaged ovens Lord Northam watched the butler work and as more kitchen staff came in he watched as the house’s ancient heart began to beat again. Like it was pushing thick sludge through its veins.

Turning to look at his wife he shot her a serious look that seemed to say: We’ll talk later.

@ScarescrowYou're all set, move him to the characters
Lord Alexander Northam

Turning from the doorway of the kitchen the Lord swept his gaze of the handful of kitchen staff who had looked up from their work at his arrival. What was even more surprising was that one of them spoke to him. Usually he was greeted with dour silence everywhere he went. Blinking at the comment made by the young woman standing at the stove he shook his head. “Frankly if you’ve been living in this house for any amount of time. You’d best be careful talking about seeing the dead. They might come scare the life out of you next.”

Sniffing at the concoction on the stove he gave her another strange look as she offered up a cup of the stuff. Swirling it he eyed the other members of the staff for a moment. They all offered no indication of what exactly he’d been offered. “It certainly does not appear to be a black tea…” he sipped at it and swirled the strange taste in his mouth of herbs. That was when it finally hit him.

The young Alexander was sitting on the end of his bed and holding a cup of something that smelled absolutely foul. He’d been sick for days and all his father had done was make him drink a series of gross teas. He’d seen the woman who was brewing them and she’d given him the willies. Still staring into the drink he finally drank the concoction.

Looking up from the drink at the woman offering him the drink he frowned at her as he took in her face.“Do you know. I think it’s been quite some time since I’ve had anything like it. I was much younger the last time. My father swore by the stuff this woman use to brew. I suppose in the end it worked since I’m still here.” Continuing to drink he finished it and set it down. Turning he looked over the kitchen. “Though I would still appreciate some decent english tea. I think I should perhaps bring something to my lady wife.” Pausing he looked at Mary again and frowned as though thinking on something. Opening his mouth for a moment he tilted his head. Thought for a moment more before holding up his finger. “ you know if memory serves the woman I remember had red hair as well.” Contemplating for a moment he turned to the rest of the kitchen.

“Now. Teapot..”
@GhostMami Wow she's awesome. Post her!
You go it
@GhostMamiyeah sounds good. Let's see it
I figured it would be a minute for most people
Lord Alexander Northam

February 1st, 1883 6:59 AM

The dreary dark of the early morning cloud cover kept the manor largely silent. While the staff moved silent, wary of disturbing anything receding into the shadows as the night fled the sun, one member of the family stalked the halls. Feeling the frosty interior of his bed and bedroom Alexander moved like a ghost returned from the otherside of the veil. His footsteps barely disturbed the thick carpets of the hallway as he walked. Moving with purpose he slid by doorway after doorway. Some of them held secrets lost to time, others he know life or death stirred behind them. With hope he would beat the rays of the sun to the kitchen where he could sit in the low warmth of the ovens and enjoy tea in peace.


It was such a strange word and such an elusive concept of late. It was really his own fault. If he had simply let the estate pass into the care of his sister-in-law or one of the other estranged siblings he might have maintained some facade of peace at least. Lost along the banks of the Bosphorus or trudging the sands somewhere. But no...such was not the case. He had come home to dreary old London and then on to the Manor. Drawn as though by some unheard calling. Whispers at the edge of his mind.

It had been a...sullen...homecoming. Dour faces had greeted him and his new bride. Those who had perhaps thought him gone for good. Those whose routine and delicate way of life had been upset by the passing of his parents. And then upset again by his own appearance blushing bride in tow. The thought of Cora being blushing though almost made him snort. The woman was not what he had expected from the file his families solicitor had provided for him. Though perhaps in the end it was for the best. The Manor was a hard place to live and someone with a frailer constitution might have been immediately put out by its. Eccentric. Nature.

Drifting as though on an unseen breeze he made his way through the dining room towards the kitchen. The hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end and he turned slowly as though he were being drawn by some unspeakable force. Turning on his heel he scanned the room eyes dancing across large paintings, white table clothes, and dark hardwood furniture. There was something amiss and his animal brain had picked up on it. The warmth of the kitchen was just inches away. Safety. Security. Tea. It tugged at him. All he had to do was accept. The door of the dining hall was ajar. No doubt a servant had left it so. Perhaps that was all. Three long tables. Eleven floor length paintings. Six dozen chairs. The various essential cabinetry for running a dining room. Turning to the door of the kitchen he put it out of his mind until his hand was reaching for the door. In that instant he frozen and cold sweat prickled across his neck.

The dining room only had ten paintings. Five on each wall…

In a spine tingling wave every hair on his arms and back stood on end and he turned slowly to confront the oddity. As he did there was a gust of air and the door at the other end of the hall cracked shut. Startling he leapt and furriously counted the paintings again.


No eleventh painting. His brain refused to acknowledge what he had seen. He refused to look at the double doors out of the dining hall. There had been no portrait of a tall woman dressed in dark colors. There had certainly been no sight of a dark cloth like the hem of a dress sweeping out the door as he had turned.

Firmly convincing himself of the fact Lord Alexander Northam did the only sensible thing and beat a hasty tactical withdrawal to the interior of the kitchen. There he could rally his nerves and his senses in the safe warm glow of the fire.

It was clear somethings about Manor North would never change.
The lord Northam has finally arrived. I think we may actually get this party started.
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