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Recent Statuses

1 day ago
Current I'm about to be banished for the good of the realm again. Where is the trust in this world, I ask you?
1 like
7 mos ago
I'm sorry, you've reached his personal secretary, Department of Shrubbery, Floor 64, Desk 1024. How can we help you today?
8 mos ago
Or buy a van or a used rental truck. Something nobody would look twice at. You can put in a rack for the rope, duct tape, plastic sheeting, shovels....
8 mos ago
Never trust a car salesman - especially a used car salesman. Have a buddy park across the street and see how many stuffed body bags you can shove in there. Gotta have room for plastic sheeting, etc.
1 like
9 mos ago
Neil Gaiman wrote in his Good Omens bio that he likes it when fans send him $50. (He read Terry Pratchett's bio and figured it wouldn't hurt.)

Bio

I am a seven-foot tall minecraft-playing hindu guru drag-queen alien.

Possessor of an Ancient Device™ Model 17. No, I don't know what it does. No, you can't play with it.

Pronouns: It. As in: "What is it? What does it want? Why is it here? Oh my god, it's got my... <insert random body part or object here>"

Likes: World Domination, Writing, Rpg, scifi/fantasy, anime, sketchup 3d models, and anime music videos.

Companions: a host of characters from other games, my personal muse Penny (as in Bad), and the Badger gang - Toothpick, Buttons, Shark, and Mongo. They grew up in the balcony of an old theatre that played a lot of gangster movies. Normally benign, but may invade the OOC forums.

Most Recent Posts

Used Central Casting to work out details and events in Dura's life. I should have a sheet up tomorrow.

- and reviewing this sheet, it's more than a little dark. I'm redoing this.
If you're ready, it will likely make it more noticable.
This sounds fun, although a bit familiar.
Kat sighs as she walks home. There were things going on back there during that auction and afterward that made her wonder just what sort of place Uncle Oskar had dropped her off in?

At the school, everyone kept their distance. When she walked into a room, conversations stopped. Really, the only conversation she got at all was with Ms. Kingman and Dr. Greene, a couple of the staff. Art school wasn't much better, to be honest. Really the most she ever interacted with anyone since was with her kidnappers. And Uncle Oskar.

The night was still, barely any hint of a breeze as she walked past dark houses and the occasional flare of motion-sensitive lights. Pulling out her phone, she did a search for podcasts - and found a curious one, "Night Theatre." She shrugged and decided to give it a go.

(sirens)
"Drake! What are you doing here?"
"Hey Owen. Just taking a walk."
"Yeah, out of a bar, I bet."
"So what's going on here?"
"Looks like a hit and run, poor guy never saw it coming."

Drake peers over Officer Clarkson's shoulder and got a look at the victim and froze, feeling icy fingers down his spine. It was his client from this morning, Moe Booth.
"Wow," Drake managed. "Accident or was someone after this guy?"
"Looks like an accident to me. You uh, know that guy?"

Drake smiled. "Never met that man before in my life, officer."

Hours later, the door to Drake's office swung open.
"Detective Steele," Drake smiled, taking in her impressive form... '

There was a sudden slap and someone whined, "Ow! Why did you do that.... huh, oh!"

"Uh, Detective Steele," Drake smiled at the female detective."How can I help you, today?"
"Cut the crap, Sheppard. We found your card in the wallet of a hit and run victim. And you were reported at the scene."
"I was just out for a walk. Is that a crime?"
"So why were the two of you sitting next to each other at the Black Cat Cafe the night before?"
"Had we?" Sheppard asked. "I don't recall."
"Drake, if you know something, you better tell us now."
"Because I drank some coffee and gave a stranger my card? I've no idea who killed him or why."
"Uh huh. Well, if you do remember something, call me. Seems waiting is really bad for your health."

Drake watched as Anabelle Steele walked out of the door, slamming it behind her.

He frowns. "What did Moe get himself into?"


Jack Mallory, X.O.


"That's alright, Anselm," Jack nods. "I'm still on duty here, but you can go if you want. You can keep an eye on my 'room mates'."

Patrol ships were so crampt, it was a shock to see he'd received so much room. But with a voyage of years, that space could be very important. Sadly, his luggage had been swapped out by a prankster. He watched as she left the bridge.

“It may be dangerous to apply assumptions about Human decision making to alien psychology," Wodan responded. "What is expected for Humans may not suit the logical and emotional priorities of an alien life form. In the absence of other data, drawing conclusions from the experience of Human history may be the best option available, but for as long as there is peace between these factions, we do have the opportunity to collect behavioral data on these species.”

So close, and yet so far.

Jack sighs. "Wodan, I've spent a good deal of my life in hostile, unforgiving environments. I've lost good people due to design flaws, the unexpected, and miscalculations, sometimes by the very people in charge. Whatever assumptions I make are based on the only history and experiences I know, and that's lead me to treat everything with a measure of caution."

"What's out there may be peaceful now, but we're in a very tricky and dangerous domestic situation - just ask any cop. Two factions are gearing up out there, and we're the prize in between. Already there's been moves against us, some by players we've yet to meet."

"And this oversaturated atmosphere won't need much to spark."

Emily didn't answer. Probably meaning this would be on her. Sam turned, heading towards the front door as she reached into a pocket. Pulling out a bit of lint, she studied it critically and spat on it, rubbing the liquid in.

"Cocoon," she whispered, feeling the slightest of power surging through her to the lint ball, now tied to her by her spit. It expanded and vanished.

The bell rang as she stepped outside, out from under the awning that protected the door, watching for the moment the cloud of rain bouncing off her invisible shield. With an eye on the traffic, she crossed over to the coffeehouse, only the soles of her shoes getting wet. Such a simple cantrip, anyone with the slightest of ability could use it. One used to need a bit of cobweb, but lint worked in a pinch.

Sam paused on the doorstep of the coffeehouse, spinning under their awning to shake off the rain. After all, it wouldn't do to piss off the guy taking orders. Stepping inside, she took care to dry the bottom of her shoes on the mat, then walked up to the back of the line to wait her turn. She didn't mind, it gave her a few more moments to study the producer of that voice she'd hear sometimes when he was performing.



@kalanggam
Sorry, I'm withdrawing from this game.
WIP

J'eon the Blacksmith


"If they have numbers that tell them how to shape their skyship," J'eon rumbled, "Then they can make a small one...."

The Glen blacksmith smiled, then drained his mug.




Jack Mallory, X.O.


"There was a flotilla of English ships, back in the age of sail," Mallory smiled, "damaged at sea during a storm. They needed the shelter of a harbor to do repairs, but the harbor they found belong to the Spaniards, their enemies. Still, they had the fort outgunned, so they made an agreement with the mayor. They would make repairs and replenish their supplies, and they would not attack the town."

The cameras were picking up the feast, he watched as the crew ate local food, not unlike the pot-lucks he'd seen in the service and as a kid. He wondered what their share was?

"Anyway, what should appear a few days later but a Spanish fleet!" Jack frowned, his face lit by the lights of the consoles. He continued his lecture. "The captain rushed to meet with the mayor to reconfirm their agreement, and the captain of the Spanish ships was there, and they all agreed the cease-fire would continue. In fact, they wanted to hold a feast, inviting the crews of both fleets. And of course, nobody would be armed."

Jack sighed, leaning back as he watched the crowd.

"One of them, Drake, noticed that the Spaniards were doing something with one of the tables, and looked under the tablecloth to find weapons stacked there. When he alerted his captain, the Spaniards launched their surprise attack. Drake and a handful of the crewmen managed to fight their way out and back to their ships and managed to escape, but a few of the ships and many crewmen were captured by the Spaniards. Many of them would be prisoners for years."

"Francis Drake became a famous British seaman, knighted by Queen Elizabeth," he added. "But first, he needed to escape. And our job, Wodan, is to give our crew that opportunity should they need it."
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