Haha as do I! It's just so addicting. Have you also played Uncharted for the PS3?
Totally fine! Mine will fluctuate as well. Um, if I may ask what you mean by time skip?
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Haha as do I! It's just so addicting. Have you also played Uncharted for the PS3?
Totally fine! Mine will fluctuate as well. Um, if I may ask what you mean by time skip?
Totally fine! Mine will fluctuate as well. Um, if I may ask what you mean by time skip?
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The Woll Manor (Dark/Mature/Interactive Murder Mystery)
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
Jig said
And on that note, I'm an absolute nightmare for tweaking and changing my character prior to the IC. The core stays the same, but I do tweak and change them - hopefully my PM isn't considered super-mega-incontrovertible-canon. :P
Heh, that's totally fine. I'm sure we're all secretly guilty of this, anyway!
@Callthecops: Looking forward to it!
Posted! Don't know why I chose that route for them to meet, but alas. I thought it'd be interesting to see how he reacted heh.
The eldest of three children, Adalyn was the only sibling sent to work with their father at the small cafe. Her two younger brothers, both brunette and rather annoying, were helping - or, more likely, just fooling around - at home, blessed with the company of their firm but warmhearted mother. With her waist-length mane and fast mouth, Nathalie was the epitome of a French woman and quite possibly the glue of the Saks family. Her work was at home, mending and laundering clothes for clients that always had a smile and some kind words to offer her offspring. The boys both had her face while Ada was a replica of their father, a fact that they often teased her with. But the girl never minded. Although they might always go on and on about not having a favorite parent so as to keep in good graces, deep down she knew that it had to be him. How could he not be, after he had passed his knowledge down to her and taught her how to play the first love of her life?
It was a well-known fact amongst family friends and neighbors that Mr. Saks was the more susceptible of the two. Not to say that he was a pushover; no, far from it. He was just more gentle and whimsical than his wife, and it was always rather easy to sweet-talk some coins for candies out of him. Perhaps it was because of his belief in silly idioms such as 'opposites attract' that Martin decided to marry such an imposing woman. Whatever it was, the universe was happier for the union, which struck a balance within the family that defined their childhood. All the laughs they'd gotten from the subtle, amused glances Martin would steal at them whenever Nathalie would launch herself into a fit over the smallest detail: The way he would repent by grabbing her into a dance that may or may not have matched the tone of the song on the radio: The begrudging smile that would inevitably mold her mother's lips before she beckoned the children to join in. This was what Ada called her home.
Lately, however, it seemed that her father was taking page by page from his wife's book, for there was a noticeable change in his demeanor since the air within Germany had begun to shift. Although he hadn't become a loud, nagging machine, he was much quieter, and less joyous - especially during family outings to the Temple or even to the sweets shop. The children couldn't understand why, nor could they yet interpret the meaning in the way Martin's head seemed to hang a little lower. They couldn't understand, but they knew something within the Fatherland was stirring. It didn't take long for them to notice that even friends from the neighborhood were beginning to treat them differently, giving them funny stares or else ignoring them completely. What it was all about, Ada did not know. But she knew that she did not like it one bit.
The funny stares and occasional rude comments followed them all the way to their workplace, which was unfortunate, because it wasn't as if they could simply walk away from them like they did on the streets. Whenever it happened, Ada had learned from her father to simply apologize and keep her mouth shut, though of course, being the daughter of her mother, she wanted to do everything but. Thankfully, since the flow of customers was slow today, and many seemed to be too busy to take notice of the girl striding between their tables, cleaning after them, the incident counter so far was low.
While balancing a plate, cutlery, and a glass still half full of milk, Ada began the mundane journey back to the kitchen, where she knew her father would be, munching on a sandwich made by her mama and chatting with the other servers. Having done this many times before, she might have been an expert at maneuvering through the maze of patrons, careful not to tilt her tray too far in one direction. But suddenly a chair at her side scooted backwards so far that she could not avoid it, and it pushed into her side with a force that caused her to drop the tray. The sounds of the silverware clattering onto the floor, as well as the shattering of the glass and the plate, seemed to echo in the silence that ensued, during which everyone seemed to have their judging eyes turned towards her.
The large man who had run into her with his chair immediately jumped up from his place and towered over her, his eyes wide with impatience. "Do you not watch where you are going, stupid girl?!" he spat at the top of her head, for she stood frozen, her apron wet with the spilled milk, staring wide eyed at the mess on the floor. It was only at the last bit that Adalyn seemed to start, and she turned around to correct him with an expression that her mother might have been proud of. But even as she opened her mouth to retort that it had been he who had caused the trouble, she stopped herself short. From the corner of her eyes she had seen the kitchen door swing open to reveal her father, who gave her the slightest shake of his head.
With a burning inside her belly and the frustration nearly spilling from her throat, she closed her mouth, inhaled through her nostrils, then said through slightly gritted teeth, "I guess not, sir. I apologize." And before he could answer, she dropped down onto her hands and knees, careful to avoid the white and crystal pieces of the broken tableware. She heard him grumbling above her but had already tuned him out, only listening for the sounds of his heavy feet as the pounded away from her.
Her eyebrows were furrowed together with indignation as she took out a rag and began scooping the shards back onto her tray, pursing her lips together to keep from muttering her irritation under her breath. It was only when she had begun reaching forward to pick up the forks and spoons that she realized she was practically underneath another patron, and she lifted her eyes to him if only to see if she'd bothered him, as well. "Don't mind me, sir," she said, a bit more roughly than she had intended. Clearing her throat as if that might excuse her tone, she pondered about how strange it felt to be calling someone that looked to be about her age "sir" as she took in his appearance. Deciding that he looked much like the friends that were likely to give her a cold shoulder, Ada turned her attention back to the fork that had slid near his chair without another word.
Before she could reach it, however, she retracted her other hand quickly from the floor as if it had been made of fire. Having moved it forward in order to lean on it, Adalyn hadn't noticed the clear, sharp piece of glass on which she had just cut the side of her thumb. "Ah," she hissed as she looked at the small incision, which was already spilling blood. With a frown, she placed the wound inside her mouth and sucked it clean, still keeping her gaze away from the boy as the piano notes began to fill the air once more. She resisted the urge to throw her father a pointed glance, knowing that he was just doing his job, knowing that he was counting on her.
It was a well-known fact amongst family friends and neighbors that Mr. Saks was the more susceptible of the two. Not to say that he was a pushover; no, far from it. He was just more gentle and whimsical than his wife, and it was always rather easy to sweet-talk some coins for candies out of him. Perhaps it was because of his belief in silly idioms such as 'opposites attract' that Martin decided to marry such an imposing woman. Whatever it was, the universe was happier for the union, which struck a balance within the family that defined their childhood. All the laughs they'd gotten from the subtle, amused glances Martin would steal at them whenever Nathalie would launch herself into a fit over the smallest detail: The way he would repent by grabbing her into a dance that may or may not have matched the tone of the song on the radio: The begrudging smile that would inevitably mold her mother's lips before she beckoned the children to join in. This was what Ada called her home.
Lately, however, it seemed that her father was taking page by page from his wife's book, for there was a noticeable change in his demeanor since the air within Germany had begun to shift. Although he hadn't become a loud, nagging machine, he was much quieter, and less joyous - especially during family outings to the Temple or even to the sweets shop. The children couldn't understand why, nor could they yet interpret the meaning in the way Martin's head seemed to hang a little lower. They couldn't understand, but they knew something within the Fatherland was stirring. It didn't take long for them to notice that even friends from the neighborhood were beginning to treat them differently, giving them funny stares or else ignoring them completely. What it was all about, Ada did not know. But she knew that she did not like it one bit.
The funny stares and occasional rude comments followed them all the way to their workplace, which was unfortunate, because it wasn't as if they could simply walk away from them like they did on the streets. Whenever it happened, Ada had learned from her father to simply apologize and keep her mouth shut, though of course, being the daughter of her mother, she wanted to do everything but. Thankfully, since the flow of customers was slow today, and many seemed to be too busy to take notice of the girl striding between their tables, cleaning after them, the incident counter so far was low.
While balancing a plate, cutlery, and a glass still half full of milk, Ada began the mundane journey back to the kitchen, where she knew her father would be, munching on a sandwich made by her mama and chatting with the other servers. Having done this many times before, she might have been an expert at maneuvering through the maze of patrons, careful not to tilt her tray too far in one direction. But suddenly a chair at her side scooted backwards so far that she could not avoid it, and it pushed into her side with a force that caused her to drop the tray. The sounds of the silverware clattering onto the floor, as well as the shattering of the glass and the plate, seemed to echo in the silence that ensued, during which everyone seemed to have their judging eyes turned towards her.
The large man who had run into her with his chair immediately jumped up from his place and towered over her, his eyes wide with impatience. "Do you not watch where you are going, stupid girl?!" he spat at the top of her head, for she stood frozen, her apron wet with the spilled milk, staring wide eyed at the mess on the floor. It was only at the last bit that Adalyn seemed to start, and she turned around to correct him with an expression that her mother might have been proud of. But even as she opened her mouth to retort that it had been he who had caused the trouble, she stopped herself short. From the corner of her eyes she had seen the kitchen door swing open to reveal her father, who gave her the slightest shake of his head.
With a burning inside her belly and the frustration nearly spilling from her throat, she closed her mouth, inhaled through her nostrils, then said through slightly gritted teeth, "I guess not, sir. I apologize." And before he could answer, she dropped down onto her hands and knees, careful to avoid the white and crystal pieces of the broken tableware. She heard him grumbling above her but had already tuned him out, only listening for the sounds of his heavy feet as the pounded away from her.
Her eyebrows were furrowed together with indignation as she took out a rag and began scooping the shards back onto her tray, pursing her lips together to keep from muttering her irritation under her breath. It was only when she had begun reaching forward to pick up the forks and spoons that she realized she was practically underneath another patron, and she lifted her eyes to him if only to see if she'd bothered him, as well. "Don't mind me, sir," she said, a bit more roughly than she had intended. Clearing her throat as if that might excuse her tone, she pondered about how strange it felt to be calling someone that looked to be about her age "sir" as she took in his appearance. Deciding that he looked much like the friends that were likely to give her a cold shoulder, Ada turned her attention back to the fork that had slid near his chair without another word.
Before she could reach it, however, she retracted her other hand quickly from the floor as if it had been made of fire. Having moved it forward in order to lean on it, Adalyn hadn't noticed the clear, sharp piece of glass on which she had just cut the side of her thumb. "Ah," she hissed as she looked at the small incision, which was already spilling blood. With a frown, she placed the wound inside her mouth and sucked it clean, still keeping her gaze away from the boy as the piano notes began to fill the air once more. She resisted the urge to throw her father a pointed glance, knowing that he was just doing his job, knowing that he was counting on her.
The afternoon sun beat down through the sparse openings between the towering glassy buildings, its blinding shine reflected in their abundance of windows, making it seem as if there were a thousand hot orbs instead of only one. Its heat, having already forced her into a tank top and cargo shorts, barely touched the bike messenger's skin, all thanks to the wind that whipped past her as she pumped on the pedals, half raised from the black fabric of the seat. Other than the heavily used black helmet snug on her head, decorated with a medley of faded stickers and magic marker drawings, and a pair of matching black gloves, she wore no other protective gear. The only other items of note on her body were her sports watch, which clung to her right wrist, a pair of worker's sunglasses, and the worn messenger bag that was slung tight around her body.
Weaving in and out of lanes to beat the traffic of Manhattan, the female on the speeding bicycle couldn't help but savor the things she had known all her life; the smell of sewerage and vendor foods wafting towards her from the sidewalks, the swerve of her bike as it barely dodged a bumper, and consequently, the loud swearing of the owners of those bumpers. Ah, yes, it was just another glorious day in the fabulous life of Katherine Weller, adrenaline junkie and artist extraordinaire. Of course, by extraordinaire, one understood it to mean still operating from the comfort of her small studio apartment, shared with her slightly hermitic roommate and her many feline friends. But this was never a damper on her spirits - if anything, it only drove her to making more appointments and more pieces.
Lately, her work had been greatly influenced by the late-night news, which were becoming more and more centered around this new disease that seemed to be taking the country by storm. As if people didn't want her art enough, right? Still, she couldn't stop from letting her thoughts wander to the stories about 'infected humans', running around, trying to pummel and take chomps out of whoever was unfortunate enough to be around at the time. If there weren't so many cases already reported, Kat might have pinned it all down to damned bath salts or something. But the reports were getting more common every day, and even she couldn't deny that something was definitely off. People were being driven out of the state by paranoia, and though she told herself that everything was fine, there was that constant voice in the back of her mind telling her otherwise.
All of that was none of her concern at the moment, though. She had just been called in for a job, and was currently speeding her way towards headquarters. Her iPod was blasting in her ears, urging her on, but as she squinted ahead, she could see a build-up of cars, blocking her way. With a sort of annoyed grunt at having to take an alternate route, she put on a burst of speed and cut off the vehicle to her right, making the turn first and just barely grazing his side. Before she could congratulate herself on the close-call, however, she swerved hard to the left, just narrowly avoiding a stopped car that had been waiting for her around the corner. Avoiding the collision there did nothing, though, since only seconds later she was facing the hood of a car that seemed to have veered over from the opposite lane.
Too late to turn another way or break hard, Katherine's front wheel hit the metallic bastard head on, her beloved bike bucking into the air and throwing her off so that she flew over the car and landed with a hard thud on the concrete. Although she'd wiped out like this many times before, it didn't lessen the blow as her back made contact with the ground, knocking all the air out of her lungs. Gasping, she forced herself to look out of the corners of her eyes in either direction to check for oncoming cars. Thankfully, and quite luckily, there was a truck stopped just in front of her, and behind her, from the street that she'd come from, the traffic had overtaken the intersection. She was safe, for the moment.
After taking a few moments to regain her breath, the biker pushed herself up into a sitting position slowly, wincing at every movement. She did an internal check to find that everything still seemed to be working, then heaved herself up from the ground, panting from the exertion. It was only when she had straightened out and was leaning against the car that had caused her the accident that she realized something peculiar; All of the people around her seemed to be running away.
What the hell? All senses were on alert now as Kat looked around her, rotating her shoulders painfully to stretch them. But then she hesitated, her green eyes resting on the windows of the vehicles nearest her. There was no one inside any of them, and the doors all looked to have been thrown open carelessly. Now thoroughly weirded out, she turned and stretched her neck to see the rest of the street, where she found that indeed all the other cars on it had been abandoned as well. People were sprinting between them towards her, but every so often they glanced behind them with an unmistakable expression of what she guessed was fear.
Although she was already forming a conclusion in her head, Katherine threw herself in denial. There was no way this could be happening. But even as she shook her head, like that would dispel the suspicion, her gaze fell on a particular woman, some 500 feet away from her, that had just pounced on one of the men that was fleeing. Immediately she began gnashing her teeth at his throat, pounding against every part of him she could reach with her fists. "No fucking way," Kat breathed as she tore her vision away from the two and scanned the rest of the field, slowly backing away herself. She could see others like the woman, like the people she'd seen on the news, coming up quickly after the divide of those trying to escape.
With a jolt of adrenaline, she whipped around to look at her bicycle, and though she expected as much, her stomach still dropped at the sight of it laying there, mangled and broken from the collision. "Ah, shit!" She hastily gave it a loving pat on the handlebar, muttering "Sorry, baby" under her breath before she too began sprinting away from the street, her sneakers pounding the pavement as she maneuvered her way through the completely still traffic.
Eventually she managed to locate a deserted alleyway, into which she dashed, but unsure of which direction to head in, she paused at the intersection. Her eyes darted to each possible route, quickly doing some GPS work in her head, and just as she had made her decision, something - or rather, someone - crashed into her from the side. "Jesus!" Kat yelled angrily just as the stranger did the same, except this person had an axe in her hand. Staring wide-eyed at the weapon, the biker prepared herself to dodge and make a run for it as her attacker swung, but the opportunity never came.
"Katherine?" came a familiar voice, and only then did she look away from the blood on the blade to see who had spoken. Much to her surprise, she recognized the woman to be Jessica Asher, leader of the hiking trips she'd taken weeks. But before Kat could get out another word, her new companion had grabbed her hand and began dragging her around until she found an open door, through which she pulled her. As Jess locked the door and examined the space for danger, she reached up and unhooked her helmet, throwing it aside unceremoniously before pressing her back against a wall and sliding down until she sat against it. She could now feel the scratches on her arms and legs that she'd obtained from her accident, but they didn't seem so important right then. The relief of having found a moment of silence was all that she could think about, and as Jesse spoke, Kat leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, brushing her hair back from her sweaty face.
"I have no idea…" she replied, though both of them probably knew exactly what was going on. Finally she opened her eyes, staring at the woman who sat across from her in silence for a few moments. Jesse didn't seem to want to take a bite out of her, or else she would have tried to do so already. Wiping the sweat on her neck with the back of her glove, she stated, "You have blood on your clothes." It was meant to be a question, but Kat was too tired to put too much infliction into her tone.
Weaving in and out of lanes to beat the traffic of Manhattan, the female on the speeding bicycle couldn't help but savor the things she had known all her life; the smell of sewerage and vendor foods wafting towards her from the sidewalks, the swerve of her bike as it barely dodged a bumper, and consequently, the loud swearing of the owners of those bumpers. Ah, yes, it was just another glorious day in the fabulous life of Katherine Weller, adrenaline junkie and artist extraordinaire. Of course, by extraordinaire, one understood it to mean still operating from the comfort of her small studio apartment, shared with her slightly hermitic roommate and her many feline friends. But this was never a damper on her spirits - if anything, it only drove her to making more appointments and more pieces.
Lately, her work had been greatly influenced by the late-night news, which were becoming more and more centered around this new disease that seemed to be taking the country by storm. As if people didn't want her art enough, right? Still, she couldn't stop from letting her thoughts wander to the stories about 'infected humans', running around, trying to pummel and take chomps out of whoever was unfortunate enough to be around at the time. If there weren't so many cases already reported, Kat might have pinned it all down to damned bath salts or something. But the reports were getting more common every day, and even she couldn't deny that something was definitely off. People were being driven out of the state by paranoia, and though she told herself that everything was fine, there was that constant voice in the back of her mind telling her otherwise.
All of that was none of her concern at the moment, though. She had just been called in for a job, and was currently speeding her way towards headquarters. Her iPod was blasting in her ears, urging her on, but as she squinted ahead, she could see a build-up of cars, blocking her way. With a sort of annoyed grunt at having to take an alternate route, she put on a burst of speed and cut off the vehicle to her right, making the turn first and just barely grazing his side. Before she could congratulate herself on the close-call, however, she swerved hard to the left, just narrowly avoiding a stopped car that had been waiting for her around the corner. Avoiding the collision there did nothing, though, since only seconds later she was facing the hood of a car that seemed to have veered over from the opposite lane.
Too late to turn another way or break hard, Katherine's front wheel hit the metallic bastard head on, her beloved bike bucking into the air and throwing her off so that she flew over the car and landed with a hard thud on the concrete. Although she'd wiped out like this many times before, it didn't lessen the blow as her back made contact with the ground, knocking all the air out of her lungs. Gasping, she forced herself to look out of the corners of her eyes in either direction to check for oncoming cars. Thankfully, and quite luckily, there was a truck stopped just in front of her, and behind her, from the street that she'd come from, the traffic had overtaken the intersection. She was safe, for the moment.
After taking a few moments to regain her breath, the biker pushed herself up into a sitting position slowly, wincing at every movement. She did an internal check to find that everything still seemed to be working, then heaved herself up from the ground, panting from the exertion. It was only when she had straightened out and was leaning against the car that had caused her the accident that she realized something peculiar; All of the people around her seemed to be running away.
What the hell? All senses were on alert now as Kat looked around her, rotating her shoulders painfully to stretch them. But then she hesitated, her green eyes resting on the windows of the vehicles nearest her. There was no one inside any of them, and the doors all looked to have been thrown open carelessly. Now thoroughly weirded out, she turned and stretched her neck to see the rest of the street, where she found that indeed all the other cars on it had been abandoned as well. People were sprinting between them towards her, but every so often they glanced behind them with an unmistakable expression of what she guessed was fear.
Although she was already forming a conclusion in her head, Katherine threw herself in denial. There was no way this could be happening. But even as she shook her head, like that would dispel the suspicion, her gaze fell on a particular woman, some 500 feet away from her, that had just pounced on one of the men that was fleeing. Immediately she began gnashing her teeth at his throat, pounding against every part of him she could reach with her fists. "No fucking way," Kat breathed as she tore her vision away from the two and scanned the rest of the field, slowly backing away herself. She could see others like the woman, like the people she'd seen on the news, coming up quickly after the divide of those trying to escape.
With a jolt of adrenaline, she whipped around to look at her bicycle, and though she expected as much, her stomach still dropped at the sight of it laying there, mangled and broken from the collision. "Ah, shit!" She hastily gave it a loving pat on the handlebar, muttering "Sorry, baby" under her breath before she too began sprinting away from the street, her sneakers pounding the pavement as she maneuvered her way through the completely still traffic.
Eventually she managed to locate a deserted alleyway, into which she dashed, but unsure of which direction to head in, she paused at the intersection. Her eyes darted to each possible route, quickly doing some GPS work in her head, and just as she had made her decision, something - or rather, someone - crashed into her from the side. "Jesus!" Kat yelled angrily just as the stranger did the same, except this person had an axe in her hand. Staring wide-eyed at the weapon, the biker prepared herself to dodge and make a run for it as her attacker swung, but the opportunity never came.
"Katherine?" came a familiar voice, and only then did she look away from the blood on the blade to see who had spoken. Much to her surprise, she recognized the woman to be Jessica Asher, leader of the hiking trips she'd taken weeks. But before Kat could get out another word, her new companion had grabbed her hand and began dragging her around until she found an open door, through which she pulled her. As Jess locked the door and examined the space for danger, she reached up and unhooked her helmet, throwing it aside unceremoniously before pressing her back against a wall and sliding down until she sat against it. She could now feel the scratches on her arms and legs that she'd obtained from her accident, but they didn't seem so important right then. The relief of having found a moment of silence was all that she could think about, and as Jesse spoke, Kat leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, brushing her hair back from her sweaty face.
"I have no idea…" she replied, though both of them probably knew exactly what was going on. Finally she opened her eyes, staring at the woman who sat across from her in silence for a few moments. Jesse didn't seem to want to take a bite out of her, or else she would have tried to do so already. Wiping the sweat on her neck with the back of her glove, she stated, "You have blood on your clothes." It was meant to be a question, but Kat was too tired to put too much infliction into her tone.
Heheh nah, I meant the actually game c:
I'm writing as we speak! Almost done.
*EDIT: Posted!
I'm writing as we speak! Almost done.
*EDIT: Posted!
In
The Woll Manor (Dark/Mature/Interactive Murder Mystery)
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
Oh, sweet man! Kick ass. That's fine then, maybe I'll just hold off starting the actual game until most of the group is around.
In
The Woll Manor (Dark/Mature/Interactive Murder Mystery)(High Casual)
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10 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Bumpity. Looking for two or three more submissions. (:
In
The Woll Manor (Dark/Mature/Interactive Murder Mystery)(High Casual/Advanced)
→
10 yrs ago
Forum: General Interest Checks
Bumpity. Looking for two or three more submissions. (:
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