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Hound55 Member

Create-A-Hero RPG GM, Blue Bringer of BWAHAHA!

STATUS: A Perpetual Motion Engine of Anxiety and Self-Loathing 2 yrs ago
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2 yrs ago
Current A Perpetual Motion Engine of Anxiety and Self-Loathing

Bio

So there I am, in Sri Lanka, formerly Ceylon, at about 3 o'clock in the morning, looking for one thousand brown M&Ms to fill a brandy glass, or Ozzy wouldn't go on stage that night. So, Jeff Beck pops his head 'round the door, and mentions there's a little sweets shop on the edge of town. So - we go. And - it's closed. So there's me, and Keith Moon, and David Crosby, breaking into that little sweets shop, eh. Well, instead of a guard dog, they've got this bloody great big Bengal tiger. I managed to take out the tiger with a can of mace, but the shopowner and his son... that's a different story altogether. I had to beat them to death with their own shoes. Nasty business, really. But, sure enough, I got the M&Ms, and Ozzy went on stage and did a great show.

Most Recent Posts

In Ju-V → 6 mos ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Alright... a little abrupt ending to that one, but our little lady of expositionary dialogue has laid out the worst kept secret moving forward.

We're going to group people together by level of activity, so that we can better tend to players' enjoyment going forward.

I'm going to be more vigilant going ahead with the post summaries, so that those working at a slower pace can still have a shortcut to keeping up with events in the game as a whole.

What I would like you, the player base to do, is take a good hard look at yourselves and assess your likely level of involvement, and the pace YOU can maintain going forward. This is for your own benefit, if you think you would struggle maintaining pace with a faster based group, that's fine and there's no shame in it, there will stil be things to do and engagement at each and every level. And interaction across the larger group as a whole will still occur day-to-day so collaborating outside of your own group will still be possible at times.

But for the viability of the game I would like to be able to bundle together groups who are likely to work at a similar pace of play.

Those of you still looking to be involved, please contact the GM crew and let us know what that level of engagement is likely to be - or if you're comfortable doing so, mentioning it in the OOC or Discord is fine.
In Ju-V → 6 mos ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay


“There’s too many of ya…” The grizzled juvenile voice spoke out.

“What exactly have ya gone and done here? This isn’t right.”

She seemed genuinely put out by the fact. As if it were HER place and her responsibility for such things.

The Kid had picked up on there being extra people here, and whilst she hadn’t known anyone well enough in the Rec Room, she could tell there were extras. She just wasn’t sure which ones.

“Is that a problem?” Rex asked, the large stony teen breaking the silence.

The Kid smiled. A question. She revelled in the opportunity to impart information.

“Can be, yeah.” She said, with a knowing grin. “I don’t know if you lot have noticed yet, but the screws get antsy when there’s too many of us in one place. Or if the power level swings too high in one place. It’s why tomorrow, they’re gonna break you up into smaller more manageable groups. Now you’re all gonna be known as a Bloc letter – dunno what your designation is, but you’ll be in smaller units above. They’ll probably push it as some measure so you can develop and hone teamwork abilities with a few more familiar people. But it’ll really be cos it scares the shit out of our ‘porters’. So the administration does things to accommodate them. Don’t want guards goin’ on strike now, do they?”

She let out an uncomfortably low growl of laughter for her appearance.

The group had already experienced that. As the majority of the group had witnessed a jumpy guard being quick on the trigger with his pepper spray earlier.

“But yeah, there’ll certainly be no escapin’ it in your instance… what’ve you got, twenty-five? Twenty-four? How’d you lot swing that?”

“We’re not supposed to be here.” Came a soft voice from a new person they hadn’t seen or heard from previously in bright white reflective clothing. Everyone turned.

“That’s why.” Vanyssa elucidated.

“Four of us, came through unique means. Wound up here.”

The large form of Kaiden gave a little wave.

"So what's likely to happen from here?" The brassy blonde rockabilly asked, looking up from her tray.

"Well, tomorrow mornin' first thing, they'll likely break you all up into smaller groups. Two or three's not uncommon, but considering there's twenty four of ya, and considering you just blew Calculus away in the first five minutes of bein' here - and wasn't that a thing of beauty, by the way. Well, I wouldn't even rule out four or maybe even five."

"Long story short... I don't get surprised by too much here normally, but I reckon you bunch might be treated outside of the ordinary."

"You keep saying twenty-four, and you, what about you and those others we met--?"

"The half dozen you met in the rec room? We're not in your bloc number. We're just a welcoming bunch of low numbers they grouped together to ease you in to the rest of the people here."

"Low numbers?" Queried the Hawaiian air rider.

"Yup. Number #543 at your service. The lowest number at this here facility. When I started out those numbers held a lot more meaning, and the handling of the... residents... was a lot more sterile in nature. Most of us weren't considered much more than the numbers they assigned us on arrival. But the low numbers are long timers here, who have either washed out, or as yet not completed the Ju-V program to a regular schedule. The six of us aren't in a real bloc anymore, with most of the people we arrived with already having progressed through. So no, we're not in your bloc. You'll probably see us around a bit, though. We tend to get grouped as our own separate bunch, since they don't really have much other way of sorting us."

"So tomorrow morning they group us, then what?" Asked Adam.

"Well, then your program starts in earnest. Some of you they'll probably take into Heuristics, or training, get a sense of your powersets, what development they figure you'll need and identifying what they think you'll be capable of. Others will probably go out on some local patrol with a local metahuman hero affiliate of Aegis... kinda like a ridealong. They'll keep you busy regardless. Nothing that'll actually be too involved yet, though. Too much liability for that. But yeah, showing you the basic ropes, and what's expected of you."

"So how will they decide who they'll be grouping together? Do we get to pick who we go with?" Kaiden asked.

"Now that I can't help ya with." The Kid said, explaining the limits of her knowledge. "I've never noticed a common thread for how they divide blocs up. They'll split roommates, leave others together, if there's a rhyme or reason to it, I've never figgered it. Any of you could be together, or any of you separated." She stopped and shrugged, aware at how little help the honest answer was.
In Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Amma had paused, a slow tilt to her head, almost as if unsure that she had heard the speculation and inquiry correctly. Someone wanted to share a tent with her, something of a nearly implausible circumstance when she did not even possess a roommate. A tent appeared for more... confining. Intimate. Close. And though there was a precedence of friendship there, a hesitant conclusion that Amma was still uncertain of, she seemed almost taken back by the unfolding situation. Firstly being conjoined to work with Lorcan and Rory, being entrusted to the field, and secondly being approached by Katja when she was almost positive she would've rather bunk with someone else.

Anyone else.

With a curious pass over, she tested the words in her mind still awhirl in her musings and said: "No, I hadn't planned on sharing a tent with anyone." Such was the truth, everyone else had been paired up almost automatically, it was a given for some and a trial for others. Whilst she had no intention of participating, Amma still considered the alternative and almost denied that beaming smile, but with a slight grin and a crossing of her arms she simply nodded.

"Sure," she gestured with a slight shrug and flicked her wrist in an off-handed gesture. "Why not, I picked the one closest to the cliff there. Hope you're not afraid of heights." she deadpanned; a soft, tittering sound loosened from her smile before she resumed her walk towards the field and waved her farewell over her shoulder.

Katja didn't realize she was holding her breath until she exhaled in a sigh of relief. For a second there she feared Amma was going to decline on her offer. But those doubts melted away with the Raven-haired girl consenting to bunk with her.

Katja's smile grew even brighter upon hearing her accept. Almost to the point of it hurting. She chuckled softly at Amma's joke. “Fate would've pulled quite a cruel prank on me if it made me afraid of heights.” She gestured to herself as if to emphasize the point.

Katja waved back at Amma as the French girl made her exit. She could feel her heart pounding with excitement in her chest for some reason. She didn't quite know why, as this wasn't the first time she shared a tent with someone and she'd never felt this way about sharing one with someone before.

But with Amma it just felt… different.

Her gaze lingered for a moment on the French girl as she walked off. Katja thought about the night before on the beach, about how she still had that unasked question that had been on the tip of her tongue.

Maybe tonight, she thought to herself.

Turning around, Katja muttered to herself as she made her way over to the construction site. “Now then, where's that little shit hiding?”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Location: The Southern Plateau, Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean - Present
Welcome Home #1.081: High Tensions with the Hypie from the Highveld (It's OUR word!)
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Interaction(s): Katja - @Zoldyck
Previously: Hard Yakka and Hard yakking


Banjo got to the worksite, to find himself alone, without guidance or assistance. Or supervision.

He looked around to check he wasn’t being watched.

“Hey, anyone..? You’re just going to leave me alone with copious amounts of heavy metal, wiring, and construction materials?!” He called out into the open.

“You guys know who I am, right?!” Still nothing.

“Dodgy AY. EFFF. Shoddy site management. Y’know this makes me want to do somethin’ just from the hubris of it all…”

He sighed, and took a look at the plans.

“Fuck, I hate bein’ the responsible one… Buncha bludgers.”

He got to work hauling heavy materials. Katja would be here soon, if he got things roughly where they should be, they could more easily join the awkwardly sized components together.

He looked around to check he was all clear, and drank deep from the day’s sun. His breath quickened and then halted, and his body turned black. A cool breeze came from the leeward side of him. He felt his spine straighten and seize as muscles and sinew re-knitted and his synapses flared, exhilarating him with the sudden ecstatic rush. Slowly he looked to restore his breath to its normal rate, with some effort, and the corona swirled around his form.

Comfortable that he’d taken enough to make a start on the job, he stopped ‘juicing’ and let his body revert back to its usual appearance.

Making a start, he stacked a few girders and looked to carry them to where they’d form the framework.

Having finally made her way over to the construction site, Katja immediately started looking for her co-worker of the day. Or, to be more precise, she was trying to gauge whether she was already on clean-up duty or not.

To her surprise, she saw that Banjo seemed to be putting in some serious effort into his task. Which was good, of course, as it meant her good mood would survive. At least for the moment anyway.

A loud whistle rang across the site as Katja tried to get Banjo’s attention. “Look at you, productive little wallaby that you are!” she called out as she approached him with a distinct skip in her step. A wide smile gracing her lips as she practically beamed in her happiness.

Without even slowing down in her stride she easily picked up two stacks of girders and tucked them under her arms before finally standing beside Banjo.

"Don't say 'wallaby'. You start sayin' rugby words, my ribcage starts hurtin'." He called back, dumping a load of metal. Picking up cable and timber to save himself a trip later.

Katja flashed a knowing grin as she recalled the last time she played rugby against the little Aussie and practically folded him in half. “Honestly, with you being on your own here, I’m shocked that you haven’t burned the place down yet.” She laughed a little too loudly at her own joke before gently tapping his shoulder with her elbow. “Then again, we’re only just getting started.” Finishing the phrase with a playful wink.

"What kept you, anyway? Too busy listenin' to heavy metal to be haulin' it?" She seemed in good spirits, but that also seemed to be standard fare for Katja.

On occasion the large South African girl would have a flicker of despondency. A flash across the face of what would otherwise be an omnipresent smile, so brief you could barely tell that you'd seen it. If it hadn't repeated on other occasions. But if you'd experienced the same things she had, that was more than understandable.

As if the girl was keeping the dark memories at bay with built momentum of positivity. Forgive the brief loss of power whilst her transmission's changing gears on occasion.

Watching what happened to her family would do that to a person. Or worse.

Katja rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion to Banjo's metal comment. “Of all the people to comment on my music tastes, you probably have the least right to complain.”

She carefully put the bundle of I-beams she held under her left arm down on the ground, making sure that they wouldn't get too banged up. “Besides…” Katja then swung the other bundle of girders in front of her, grabbing it with both her hands before effortlessly lifting it high above her head. “You know I'd never pass up a good opportunity to lift heavy shit!”

"My tastes are impeccable, and beyond bloody reproach. This just goes to show that shit you listen to has made ya ears cactus. And another thing, when sdasdf ... " He kept mouthing whilst no sound at all came out, before finally mutely mouthing the words "Can you hear me at all?" and pointing to his ears.

Rolling her eyes at his tomfoolery, Katja put her second bundle next to the first before turning to Banjo and apologetically raising her hands. “But yeah, you're right. I'm a bit late. Sorry about that, bru!” A smile formed on her lips. “It just took a bit of time before I found someone crazy enough to share a tent with little old me. Not everyone hit the jackpot like you did five years ago!

She chuckled at the memory of the Aussie rascal and the New Mexican Ice Queen's first couple interactions back then. They were such an unlikely pairing and yet, they seemed to be made for each other.

The corner of her lips dropped for only a millisecond as she recalled what happened shortly after. A quick shake of her head cleared her mind of that aweful recollection. And with those memories tucked back into the dark corner they belong, her wide smile reappeared in full force as she thought about her bunkmate.

A gentle softness took hold of her voice when next she spoke. “If I'm honest, I kinda expected her to say no. So when she actually accepted the offer...” She cut herself off with a pleased hum as her cheeks visibly reddened.

It took her a few seconds to realize how she looked and she tried to turn her face away from Banjo. But she knew she was probably far too late with that action.

"Aaah... so that's what brought this on." A wide grin of recognition crossed his face, as he didn't hesitate to take the opportunity to tease his friend. "All of this." He said, gesturing to the blonde South African girl.

Katja put her hands on her hips as she looked over at Banjo for a brief moment, regarding him with a slightly tilted head and a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘All of this’?” Though she quickly turned her face away again when she felt her cheeks heating up.

"This sunny bloody disposition of yours... I could power m'self for about a week off it."

He put some space between them before continuing the thought.

"Lemme guess, New Gal, yeah? Well, just you mind yourself. You know what the French rugby players are like..." His grin started to turn into a more cheeky leer.

"Almost as dirty as the Bokkies. So mind you don't go gettin' a finger in the eye, in that tent there. Or were you lookin' for a fing--?”

Katja’s head snapped to meet Banjo within less time than it took either of them to blink. Her icy blue eyes were filled with unmistakable embarrassment which, as her pupils narrowed, slowly turned into rage. Her head became as red as a tomato, though it was hard to tell whether this was due to embarrassment or anger. Probably both. She bolted after Banjo within a split second, her big open right hand stretched out to grab the joking Aussie’s head.

“oh shit, she's comin'! HA HA HA HA HA HA!" Banjo ran away from the large, rapidly reddening blonde girl, cackling with laughter. Relieved that he was comfortably able to keep a safe distance because he'd juiced earlier.

It was only a matter of inches, but she could’ve sworn she’d had him this time. She closed her hand with so much force that it actually made such a loud noise that people dozens of feet away got startled by it. In hindsight it was probably better that Banjo dodged that one, as his skull likely would’ve offered as much resistance to her squeeze as a ripe tomato.

Her eyes lingered on her empty hand for a few heartbeats before her gaze shifted back to the object of her ire. “I promise you…” She said with a voice that rumbled with barely repressed anger. “When I get my fucking hands on you…” Turning to face him, she continued with what almost sounded like a growl. “I’ll toss you all the way across the Pacific back to Australia…” Katja crouched down to prepare her pursuit, the volume of her voice ever increasing. “You little Aussie shit! She howled before leaping after the little bastard.

If it weren’t for the tremors each of her steps made and the craters her feet left behind, one wouldn’t have guessed Katja’s mass was anything noteworthy by the way she moved. Despite her great weight, she never seemed to be encumbered by it in her movements. She was already a freakish athlete without her powers. With them? Well, she was known as one of PRCU's star athletes for a damn good reason and it was clearly shown in just how close her pursuit of Banjo actually was. However, each time she nearly had that runt by the throat, he’d slip between her fingers, cackling all the way.

A smile slowly started creeping up on Katja’s lips as the initial anger and embarrassment subsided and made way for amusement. They had gone over this routine countless times now. He would say something to aggravate her, she would attempt to squish him like the bug he sometimes could be… Fun times all around, really.

She finally called it quits after what felt like an eternity, though it probably was only a few minutes. She didn’t like to admit she lost, and Banjo most certainly knew that, so she just feigned disinterest in the entire pursuit. Banjo usually knew better than to continue prodding the bear when that time arrived, and they’d merrily continue on with their business. As she looked over at the now ruined field, she hoped that today would be one of those days where he wouldn’t try to rub salt in the wounds.

As her attention shifted to the cloudy sky, she addressed her fraternal menace. “We should really get to work on this…” Katja panted before looking over at Banjo with a grin. “While we’re both still able to get some work done.”

“You’re getting quicker.” He said with a wide grin, still backpedalling freely, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I mean, I still had a gear or two to go, but if I wasn’t juiced to the gills to haul this crap around, may well-a been a different story. But you didn’t even let me get the punchline out.” He crowed cockily.

Katja chuckled softly as a smirk started tugging at the corner of her lips. “You better pray I don't ever get you into a ring or something. You'd become the damn punchline if that were to ever happen!”

“Awww... dunno 'bout that. Still got the ol' slip'n'dip... the ol' One-Two Timmy Tszyu!” He said, bobbing and weaving and throwing rapid left-right combinations. Before he stopped and thought for a moment.

“Don't know how much it'd do, but...” He said scratching his neck at the thought of throwing a combination at someone who tipped the scales at... well, tipping the scales. So he continued in earnest.

“So I’m glad. Someone to get a bit over-protective over. If anyone’s deserved someone like that, it’s you. Someone like that… sounds like Home.” The cheekiness dropped from his smirk, before returning. “I’d let ya go the hug, but I’m still a bit wary of lettin’ ya close just yet.”

The redness returned to her cheeks while her smirk turned into an embarrassed smile. But Katja didn't turn away this time around. Instead she just looked at Banjo, her bright eyes shining with appreciative joy at the Australian's words. “Thank you. she mumbled softly with a hint of embarrassment.

He looked at the damage to the terrain and the job that was still very much at hand, and let out a long, low whistle.

“Bet I’ll get blamed f’r this…”

Katja followed Banjo's gaze and, after surveying the aftermath of their little scrap, instinctually scratched the back of her neck. “Nah bru, we'll both get yelled at if we don't fix this by the end of the day.” She admitted with a hint of guilt in her voice.

Katja quickly made her way over to the bundles of girders. “Come on, let's get to work!” She snapped the reinforced wires keeping the bundles together with a quick jerk of her fingers, the steel beams tumbling down from their neat packages into a pile. “No messing around until we're at least half way through the schematics, deal?”

“I mean, we might as well. There's nothin' left to destroy right now...”

In Ju-V → 7 mos ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Anybody still interested... please drop a comment in the next 48 hours in either the Discord game thread or the OOC.

Gauging interest.

Anyone who does not do this in the next 48 hours will be partitioned into a "slower" section of the game, bundled with NPCs where interaction will be less frequent and the "expected pace of play" considerably slower.
In Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Another perfect still night. Barely a cloud over Darwin.

Banjo sat out with his waterbottle under the stars. He swore he'd never get tired of this. The endless cosmos spread forth before him on another impeccably clear night.

He took a gulp of water, air sucked into his bottle.

The shuffling of feet in the dirt and dust.

"You again." Banjo called back without turning around.

"Me again." Mamili confirmed.

"Come to remind me of some more differences betwee--"

"Naaah. Nah. Been thinkin' 'bout what you showed me. Got someone you should meet. Uncle."

"The footy player?" Mamili's uncle had played in the AFL, a legend of the game in fact, he had a cousin who was currently playing there as well.

"What--? No. Why would it be him? I have more than one uncle." He instantly regretted saying this and dropped his head, before getting defensive and raising a finger at Banjo to get on the front foot. "Don't-- make this a race thing about the size of my family."

"I didn't say a word. The only uncle of yours I've ever heard anybody say anything about was the footy player. I assumed."

"Technically this guy's like a second cousin, or second uncle removed a couple times, something like that. Still call him 'uncle'."

Banjo took another swig from his water bottle.

"I said don't make it a--"

"I didn't say a thing."

"Well, alright then."

"..."

"You two might have... somethin' in common."

"So when's this joker gunna be here, or do I have to go to him?"

"Told him about you. He can be here tomorrow."

"You told h--" Banjo scowled at the breach of trust.

"I did. Relax. He'd no more tell your story, than sell out his own."

"So you're sayin' he's a--"

"Yup."

"I'm not lookin' to join some kind of club. You get that right? We don't go kickin' 'round swappin' literatu--"

"He's interested in meetin' you if nothin' else."

Perfect... if nothing else there's too many people 'interested in meeting' me already.


"We'll probably have to move a bit further away, but." Mamili said, looking back at how close they were to the boarding dorms and the rest of the school grounds. "But he likes lookin' at the stars as well..."
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Haileybury Rendall School, Darwin - Past, The Southern Plateau, Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean - Present
Welcome Home #1.064: Hard Yakka and Hard yakking
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Interaction(s): Calliope - @PatientBean, Rory - @webboysurf, Haven - @Skai, Tad and Robert - NPCs
Previously: Invasion Day


Banjo and Calliope sat in silence for the trip in one of the minotaurs. In front of them, Rory had his head hanging out like a dog all the way. The silence was palpable. He took Calli's hand and gave it a squeeze, she held it and returned it in kind to show it wasn't him, but a few minutes later released his hand. Clearly deep in thought, and with plenty to think about he didn't push the issue. They heard the cliffs scream their typical banshee song as they drove ever closer to the Plateau. An effect of their design at the hands of some Hyperhuman he may or may not have been told about years earlier. As the car slowed, Rory burst forth practically before the vehicle had pulled up to a complete stop.

"Geez, he's like a bloody kelpie, ain't he? Where's he off to?"

Rory had rushed up and grabbed one of the tents and was racing off to some distant bare patch away from the rest.

"Yo, lovebirds... picked out a nice spot for ya. Try not to keep us up all night!"

Haven let out a laugh. Banjo rolled his head over to turn to Calliope.

"Y'know, this is what happens when you let these drongos know we might be interested in startin' a family together..."

"We might?" Catching his phrasing, and hoping that maybe she could perhaps nudge it to an even more solid position.

"We might." He replied with a warm smile. Letting her know they were both on the same page.

"If anyone knows how garbage family can be - someone who's actually gunna be driven to do it right. It's you and me, hun. No half measures. Thing about startin' my own solo practice, I'd be able to control my own hours. When it comes time. It's time. Shutter it short-term. Hell, I could probably get JP Qual or the equivalent and work as a notary public from home lookin' after the little tackers. Have pimple faced teens come in lookin' for me to sign stat decs so they can get work."

"You wouldn't get bored?"

"Oh, I'd go absolutely barmy." He grinned. "But I'd do it. Our kids would be so sick of dear old Dad they'd be beggin' me to stay out of their lives." He winked at her.

"I'm not going to be one of those moms that works too much either though. We're both in."

He gave her a quick peck which threatened to turn into something longer, before separating.

"But anyway, speakin' of the kids..." He rolled his eyes at the mob outside the car, and got out of the minotaur.

Just in time to hear Rory propositioning Haven.

"So, Barnes... you want to sleep together tonight?"

Banjo's neck straightened.

Bold. OK. Fair enough. If it were anybody else, I'd suspect it was that Assembly and the whole 'Final year, better act now' of it all. But I'm pretty sure that's Rory just Rorying.

As Haven agreed.

Ok. Now THAT was the 'Final year, better act now' of it all.

There was a silence between the two which seemed comfortable between the pair, but excruciating for Banjo the bystander. He could have sworn he just saw Haven flush. He felt happy for her, but figured he should take the pressure off her before that's where the eyes went. He also didn't particularly want to think about the visual he was now getting, for someone he pretty much viewed as the sister he never had. Besides, Rory bein' Rory, he probably had no clue what he just accomplished.

"Oi! Tyler! Move your bloody tent!" He hollered, jerking a thumb at where he'd put 'their own' tent. Before emitting his familiar cackle of laughter. Moving on towards the awaiting construction site where they were to go to work.

Now if he couldn't figure that one out, he didn't know what it was gonna take.

A bouncy-haired Faculty Representative called out to them.

"Come on, guys! Stop goofing off, we need to--"

"Shut up, Tad. You're not my supervis--hfft" Banjo started before walking into a tree trunk.

...he looked up, rubbing his chest after knocking the wind out of himself, and saw the tree trunk was a very large, barrel-chested hyperhuman.

"Hey-Zeus bloody Crisp!" He whistled, taking in the man's full height. "When the good Lord made you he didn't bloody stop for smoko, did he eh?"

"This bloke." He said, pointing up at him. Trying to salvage some small patch of dignity from the situation. "This bloke here's my supervisor. Too many foremen, Tad, and all-a that."

"Little man, I am not your supervisor." Robert replied, looking down at the much smaller student before using one of his large hands to move Banjo out of his personal space. "Thaddeus is your supervisor. I am a coordinator. If you can not respect the chain of command, I will not have you on my construction site."

"And now you've met Banjo..." The Faculty Representative said to Robert.

"He should perhaps worry more about using his eyes instead of devoting so much energy to his mouth."

"I wouldn't say it's 'chain of command' specifically which I find difficult to respect." He replied with a screw-face, considering Tad.

He turned his head, as if considering from multiple different angles.

"And my eyes aren't helpin' that any."

"But... we've all got our challenges. So, where am I goin'?" He asked the colossal coordinator.

"I'm not a man like you who enjoys the sound of my own voice. I have already stated that Thaddeus is your supervisor. All instructions were doled out to him. If you are in fact interested in being helpful, I suggest you politely ask Thaddeus for your assignment."

Banjo considered this for half a moment, before turning to the Faculty Representative, a large shit-eating grin on his face as he decided how he was going to phrase this.

"Fair enough. Tad. Where'd the man here say he wanted you to tell me where to go?"

"You'll be working alongside Katja helping erect the foundation." Tad replied, "I have a feeling she's got a better handle on this, so I'd defer to her and please do try to follow the plans as they are. Those are what was stress tested and signed off on."

Banjo wandered off in that direction whistling 'Working Class Man', suitably happy with how the conversation had gone.

As Banjo walked away, Robert turned to Banjo one last time.

"This Banjo, he is like a rodent, no?" Robert asked, "Small, often unwanted and finds any gap he can exploit."

"That's apt."

"You need to be firm with such bilge rats." Robert stated. "Even after the ship sinks, he'd find a way to float while the rest of you are left to drown."

"I'd check your tent before going to bed tonight after that." Tad smirked.

"Thaddeus, do yo truly think there's a tent on this island that is big enough for me." Robert replied, shaking his head. "And people used to say you were smart."

As Banjo made his way to the construction site whistling merrily, Haven fluttered down beside and kept pace walking along side of him.

"Hey, Banjo, mind if we chat?"

"Didn't know birds like Barnesy..." He stopped whistling to say. "Besides, there's no bloody need. I'd say you handled that perfectly, far as I saw. I got no notes." He stopped whistling and started singing along to AC/DC's 'Shook Me All Night Long' instead.

Haven stopped in her tracks and grinned, shaking her head, he didn't turn to check if she flushed red. He was happy enough with the response he got. A few seconds later she caught up again and told him.

"I have that covered. This is about this morning. About the ceremony."

He cocked an eyebrow and slightly turned his head to face.

"I'm listening..."
In Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
It was a clear black evening as Darwin was wont to have. With next-to-no light pollution from the smallest capital leaving the stars in the black night's sky spread wide like a celestial carpet.

Banjo heard scuffling behind him. Deliberate. Trying to get his attention. Wants him to know they're there.

He turned around, only to see the young boy from his class. A serious child. He'd never seen a smile on his face for as long as he'd been here. He'd shot him with hard looks numerous times through classes. But if there was anger in those looks, Banjo hadn't picked up on it. Which was worth mentioning, because he didn't seem to be someone without some anger very thinly below the surface. But those was something else. Probably whatever this was about.

Mamili Motlop. Smart kid. Thinks a bit different though. Although in a place like Haileybury Rendall maybe it was Banjo who thought different. Wouldn't be the only thing that made him different...

"You don't belong."

"Cheers for that. Nice bloody welcome wagon." Banjo said, turning back around to look at the stars.

"No. I mean your story. It's bullshit. You're not from Townsville. And I don't buy that that's your Dad either."

"I believe he said Cairns..."

"Whatever. Just as much bullshit."

Banjo wondered what it was that had given them away, and instead kept his mouth shut and kept his eye on the sky. Better just to let him have his suspicions without doing anything that might outright confirm them.

"You're too 'Townie'. City-boy. That bullshit you were talkin' before in class. City liberal, overactive conscience which never actually tries to make any real difference. They don't breed that out in the sticks and beyond. Round the traps, they might treat the person right but they don't give a shit for you in their politics... might even be more honest."

"Maybe my Dad just wanted me to have a proper sense of our place in the history of this Big, Brown Land..."

"HA!" Mamili erupted with a stark reaction to his response, before sitting down right next to Banjo. "That's the biggest lie yet. Now THAT bloke actually did grow up country his accent's more baked in than yours. Nah. If he knew this was Larrakia land, I'd be stunned."

Banjo took a sip from a water bottle, before confiriming his suspicions. "He was stunned that I knew the tribal lands of the capitals."

Mamili formed his approximation of a smile for the first time since Banjo met the boy. The corners of his mouth upturning to form a tightened wry grin, in confirmation of what he already knew.

"Well, alright then. Truth-telling. About bloody time." He had a bottle of Coke in his own hand and took a sip.

"Truth-telling. So you're sayin' we're on our own path to Treaty, eh?" Banjo cracked a wry joke, referring to the 'Uluru Statement of the Heart'.

Mamili let out a hollow chuckle, and just as fast the thin grin was gone.

"Well, it sure as Hell ain't gonna be their generation..."

"Oh piss off." Mamili spat, replacing it with more Coke.

"What? What've I done now? I haven't even done anythin' to your school, you keep glarin' at me, givin' me shit. What's up your arse?" It was true. So far. Banjo had kept his worst inclinations under wraps for the first few days at the new school.

"'Cos you're just another Liberal bloody townie. You're not gonna do nothin' either. You're all about sayin' the right thing to make yourselves feel less guilty about what your ancestors did. You don't actually want to do anything. You just want to make a point of difference between a bunch of colonials who sliced up country for selections, hunted, killed, enslaved and stole people from their families and the white people you are now who just benefit from the generations of how it was. You don't want anything to actually CHANGE because you profit from it. You just want to make sure you can feel better about yourself. At least the murdering pricks were upfront about it."

"...and I'm certain that attitude will help you win people over to your side. Maybe you can fit it on a board come voting time." More water. Air sucked back into the bottle once he was done.

"And THAT'S the point, isn't it. THAT RIGHT THERE is how you can tell you're full of shit, because it shouldn't matter if you feel bad about it. If you were actually interested in doin' the right thing, you'd do it because it's the right thing. Not just because it doesn't make you feel bad about things."

"Who says I don't? I'm just sayin' you can't truly expect to win more people over to hearing you out, let alone goin' along with you, when that's how you approach things."

"Mate, please... You've got no stakes. You can't relate. You lay it on thick, but that's all it is, bullshit townie liberalism that tells yourself you can relate."

Banjo sighed from the repeated verbal onslaught.

"Lemme try... You found yourself born into a world where your country was already taken, your kind marginalised beyond any kind of reasonable hope for representation, a history of atrocities and fucked up shit happening to your people. You're pushed away from mainstream general society, and then questions are raised about your contribution to a society you had thrust upon you, with poisons and disease sent after you, striking down the ones the people with guns didn't get. With the justice system disproportionately targeting your kind moreso than anyone else on the planet."

Mamili turned and looked at him with one raised eyebrow.

"...and the most frutrating thing is that because you were BORN into that society, you suspect it would've been something far better, but you can't form any kind of salient argument, because all of that shit happened EVERYWHERE to all of your people, and you can't point and show that you'd have been just fine if they fucked off and left you in peace."

You're not really gonna do this, Banjo, are you?


"That's-- alright-- that's a bit closer than most. But you still haven't experienced--"

Nah, fuck it. You've bounced around enough schools for reasons that weren't your fault,
what's one more where you actually were responsible?


Banjo stood up and took two steps away from the boy, and sighed. Yup, he was gonna do it. The pull was far lighter at night, with no sun in the sky. Like faint pins and needles on gooseflesh, as the light of myriad stars had stretched out for countless years just for this moment.

With a sudden burst he drank deep from the stars. A bitter cool bite to the breeze came from his direction. His breath quickened and then halted, his body turned black. Muscles and sinew re-knitted and his synapses flared, providing a quick hit of ecstasy. He held it and worked to restore his breathing whilst he juiced. A smaller than usual corona from the diminished light started to swirl around his person. His teeth shon bright through his broadened smile in the night. It took work to hold his breathing steady, as if it weren't a natural thing, in his current state.

He turned and faced Mamili. Then just as fast, he stopped 'juicing' and let his body revert back to its usual appearance.

"What the bloody Hell do you call this?!" He cried out.

Banjo looked around in case he'd missed seeing anyone, or the other boy's loud voice attracted further attention.

"Blackfella/Whitefella..?"

"..."

"You know that joke was fucked up, right mat--?"

"Yeah, no-- I heard that as I was sayin' it too, that wasn't-- I wish I had more ti-- yeah, that wasn't my best moment."

"You still didn't have to have your family see 'em coming down the coast. White sails, white faces, white guns."

"What sails, mate? Your family's from bloody Darwin. Thought this was all about truth-telling. Or are you saying your family saw 'em on the horizon and went on some epic Burke and Wills styled trek across the entire country to get away from them?"

"... ...well could you blame 'em if they did?"
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: Haileybury Rendall School, Darwin - Past, Strigidae/Ursus Dormitory Block, P.R.C.U - Present
Welcome Home #1.056: Invasion Day
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Interaction(s): Calliope - @PatientBean
Previously: Solid Rock


Banjo and Calliope walked back to their dormitory block together in silence. Calliope's silence radiated aggression, and did not suggest it was willing to be trifled with.

In their wake, teammates were consoling each other, checking they were alright, and more.

He held the external door for her, and paused in his own thoughts, before moving on to his own dormitory.

He needed time to think. It'd hit him. But indirectly. And was fucking with his emotions as a result. People take a poke at him and it doesn't hit the same way. He'd laugh and fire back. This was different, and he needed to make sure his head was right for it.

He walked in his room and closed the door, stripping down to get in his PT gear, which he pulled from his foot locker.

He had a hundred stupid little plans to mess with the school and make their institutions look stupid in some way or another, but nothing for this.

Any way he acted out in response to this, could be interpreted as a failure in the school's ability to maximise it's student body and aptly teach or raise them for the world beyond. Which he normally wouldn't care about, but on this occasion conflicted with his own primary desire.

To not give these fucking invading pricks what they want.

So, back to the drawing board. Back to basics. Raw concept. What did he want? What should he do?

What did he want? Well that was simple.

He wanted to find out what they wanted, and burn it to the fucking ground and laugh in their faces whilst it turned to ash.

And find a way for Calliope to not be hurt whilst doing it.

Well, not just Calliope. He supposed, begrudgingly admitting to himself. Haven and Katja too. And Rory. And 'Raw and Lorcán. Pallyx and Mei. Zimmerman and Big Steve.

He s'posed the others as well.

And if they touched his pony, guts f'r garters.

Fuck.

He thought back to home. This is the thing with invasion. Every loss is felt. Every loss hits big.

And the thought of running devastates.

He thought of his team. Taking flight had probably occurred to Haven. Not because she was cold blooded or didn't care. It was time. Time binds you to a place.

He was starting to feel it, and he hated it in himself. He'd always prepped himself for the inevitable day he'd have to jump. But now he was tied. Tied in a dozen directions to things he couldn't deny.

There's no way in Hell 'Raw could. She'd been attached to this place too long. It'd be like severing a limb.

Katja had family killed and her home stolen from her. He wondered if she saw this the same way to any degree. She showed concern for them before, so maybe this was a bigger point of difference, or maybe it was putting on a brave face.

No. This was different. More subtle than what she'd endured. Her emotions were generally kept close to the surface. That was genuine, he told himself. She recognizes it as bad, but it's a whole other thing. After all, they didn't come out and run Jim O'Neil through with cold steel.

No... they'd taken him from surprise and bent him over a podium.

So how much had they known before the Assembly then? He thought.

They were here under the auspices of an audit. So that was already granted. And Jim copped to the accreditation. Then it all went to Hell in a hand basket.

So, there's your pivot point.

Come in dropping bad news, which the new 'friends', who happened to be here for other reasons, could somehow bail them out of. 'The problems you never knew you had, we have the answers!'

So simple.

That wouldn't have been the end of it though. More would have happened behind closed doors. There's no way Jim would have left it at that. He'd have had words.

And there's no way they drag all of the kids back into another assembly after that one... with the Homecoming Trials already disrupted more than they like.

Which means the situation could be in the midst of negotiations.

Which just further means he can't act out without hurting the bargaining position and giving these pricks what they want.

Everything led back to the same damn thing. A snake eating its tail.

The thought rushed back through his head. "Should get back to Calli'

But she generally took longer to get ready than he did. Prepared herself more, and if he was honest with himself, she was probably trying to level herself out in the bathroom. She'd withdrawn, but this hit hard.

He left his room and opened up the fridge. There wasn't much in there. Alex Zimmerman's orange juice. Big Steve's Multi-vitamin breakfast juice. Replacement milk for the coffee machine.

He got a cup out of the cupboard, and put it on the bench, to crack open some of the milk when Zimmerman and Big Steve walked in, talking between themselves. They saw him in the kitchen and froze.

"I-- uh-- ahh..." Banjo froze him with a single look.

He forgot the milk and pulled the carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

"I mean... I'm sorry dude. How was-- I mean, we didn't know."

Banjo started pouring orange juice down his throat.

"Are you-- I mean, are you okay? Are we cool?"

He kept pouring. Holding the carton higher at the end so they could both see the last few drops go into his mouth.

He closed up the carton and put the empty right back in the fridge in front of him. Never taking his eyes off the pair. He closed the refrigerator and walked past the pair and out the front door.

"I'm not mad." He said flatly as he walked past them, out the door and got in the lift.

"I-- OK. Good." Offering a feeble wave, even though he was already gone.

Zimmerman turned to Big Steve.

"Well, that could've gone worse..."

Big Steve looked down at his diminutive friend

"Well, at least he's not mad."
In Ju-V → 7 mos ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
I'm still around, yes. I just need to actually post in this, with how little free time I've had in the last two months from working excessive overtime writing has somewhat felt like a chore at times and I end up going to go play games or something instead. Just need to force myself to sit down at my PC and write away (probably tonight if I can get it out with my other RPs).


That's fine, and yes, I suspected as much would be the case on your end.
In Ju-V → 7 mos ago Forum: Advanced Roleplay
Just gauging interest on who's still rolling with this.

Not looking to shutter things, but I want to see who's still looking to be involved.

I'm guessing @Skai, @Qia, @Venus, @Kuro, @Roman...

Might compartmentalise things a bit, section off "groups", if we have people who are dropping out, to up the focus on those still interested.

As I have said before, those on the NPC list ARE welcome to return (assuming it can be worked) down the line. I get inspiration can wax and wane, as can free time.

But I WOULD like to see if I can make the experience a bit better for the active folks looking for some pep in the game.

...even if it means having faster and slower paced segments of the game, where things reunite further down the line.

I will come up with some GM stuff that works the NPCs in as well, both GM-created and former PCs (if you don't much care for having your characters moved around on my dopey whims, there's an easy way to fix that...)

But yes, next few days if you can let me know your interest/engagement level, I'd like to try and hit as many people's wants as possible.



In addition, @Zoldyck has been added to the NPC list with Sasha.
In Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Banjo was hunched over the fire. Everyone was starting to pack up and gather their things. It had been a good day and a mixed night.

He looked over at Calliope and Amma, as the former packed her stuff away, whilst the latter seemed a million miles away.

A very mixed night.

Calli had looked at him straight in the eye, and then breaking eye contact told the entire group she had it on her mind to start a family.

Sure, it was a “one day” off in the abstract distant future, but if he wasn’t mistaken it seemed very much like she was throwing down the gauntlet. He’d never had such a firm suggestion of long LOOOONG term commitment. They’d made their plans and he’d tiptoed around asking her views on marriage in private company before. But this seemed very much like she wanted him to know that she was expecting all of this and more.

It was the best news he’d had in a long time.

…but also terrifying.

The thought of HIM having kids, from what little he’d been told of his background. His genes, his history, a bunch of people learning their formative traits and lessons from him, with HIM as their primary male role model..?

Seemed like a Hell of an opportunity for karmic backlash, if nothing else.

And then Amma had brought back a lot of nagging concerns as well. He’d known what it was like to live life on the run. More than anyone here, in fact. He’d done it for the better part of two decades. It wasn’t something he was really ever bothered by if it happened again, because he knew he could do it. It was part of the reason for his future plans being as simplistic as they were, and so easily transferable.

The same reason why even five years after coming here he still lived out of his foot locker, and his wardrobe contained little more than the ‘trophies’ of numerous Canis school uniforms of Rory Tyler that he’d accumulated via numerous pranks and japes over the years.

Five years on and he was still ready to ‘up sticks in five to ten’.

He relived the moment:

"Do you really think any of that is going to happen. Do you think they'll just simply let you go. Once we graduate, what happens then. The Institute is breathing down our necks now." The fire sparks in answer at the mention of her former association, the hiss of drift wood punctuated by the sliver of crimson power reaping through the flame. Beneath her, the sand trembles, the grains shifting at her beck and call as her smile lances through her features akin to a vicious slash.

She finds molten eyes through the haze of the night and says:
"The world outside of this perfect little bubble is cruel and it is dark and it is afraid. Afraid of you. Afraid of me. Outside that shield of fog," Amma gestures abroad, lines of silver coiling betwixt her fingers, lighting the depth of her eyes to an eerie glow. In those chasms of blue lies a void; a never ending sky that collides with something. Someone.

"They lie in wait to take everything you hold dear. And they will. They always do." Amma's nails lance against the name inked into her neck. "And I welcome them to try. I will take everything from them. Just as they took everything from me."

"But no matter what, this world will never accept you. They won't forget. They haven't forgotten. I doubt they will ever forgive."


The heavy silence she left in her wake. The unease of the group. The desperate need to fill it.

What was it he’d said again?

“Well, shit… Here’s to me bein’ on their list only AFTER they try it on you, then.” And he’d raised a beer bottle to her.

It got a small chuckle from a few, but her message had clearly stung the group, some worse than others.

He looked into the fire. Its warmth. Its energy.

Another peek back at what he’d gained in this place. She was still packing things, cleansing sand from towels.

It wasn’t a thought he’d had very often, because he seldom reflected so deeply on his past, but he began to wonder if he still could do it anymore. For the first time, he felt he wouldn’t.

Even if his world was collapsing around him. Even if his world was falling into the darkness of the abyss.

He couldn’t see himself running anymore. Not with what he had now.

He focused and rode the surge as his back seized, and his arm turned black.

He plunged it into the waning flames and embers and drank deep. The fire died.

Then cursed himself as he felt sobriety take hold once more.

He’d found it easier to sleep after he’d had a few. The dreams stayed away, the size of the bed a distant concern. Stupid.

He walked over to the cooler and grabbed the last few bottles of beer.

“Just made ya esky lighter, Tyler. Never say I don’t do anything for ya.” He called out. “Ya done, hun?” He asked Calliope.

The Houses of Ursus and Strigidae shared a building, so they were going in the same direction.

There was no running. They walked together, the whole way.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Location: The Farm/The Beach/The Chimera's Lair/Banjo's Dorm - Pacific Royal Campus
Welcome Home #1.047: Solid Rock
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Interaction(s): Rory - @webboysurf, Calliope - @PatientBean, Amma - @Rockette, Haven - @Skai, Tad - NPC
Previously: Plans Over A Brew or Two


Banjo woke up and poured himself into a pair of shorts to make the brief trek to the coffee machine.

The grinding of beans inspired his roommate Alex Zimmerman to have the same idea.

“Morning!” He greeted him enthusiastically. He always started mornings at about an ‘8’. Until Banjo had a second cup, he was firmly stuck on ‘2’. Something today had pushed Zimmerman way up to a ‘13’ though.

“Have you heard! There’s a touring group from the Alexandria Foundation here!”

Banjo hadn’t made the connection as to why he, or anyone, should give a shit about this, until he remembered.

“Sure, it’s not Hyperman or Miragal, but I’m gonna see if I can—”

Banjo turned around and made a calming gesture with his open palm, which proved effective when combined with the ‘barely functioning’ expression he carried upon his face.

“Oh, sorry..!”

Banjo carried his cup to his room at a trudge and closed the door.

Ten minutes later, he re-emerged in an approximation of what the school expected from him in terms of school uniform, stuffing his dress peak cap in his blazer’s interior pocket, and stepping to the machine to make the stabilising second cup of the day.

“Sorry man, for earlier, I’m just excited! Gonna see if I can get some merch from the Force!”

Big Steve greeted him far more gently, as he emerged from his room and waited in line.

"Dude! They're ACTUAL GENUINE SUPERHEROES!" He called out, almost in disbelief from having to explain himself.

Banjo topped his takeaway cup with chocolate, before directing him to Zimmerman.

“I leave him in your capable hands. Try not to break him any more than he already is.”

Big Steve’s face creased a smirk.

“Do you want us to pick you up any--?” “I don’t c—” “You don’t care.” They sang a tune they’d both heard many times before.



Banjo made his way down the back way, behind the A.R.C, to the Community Farm. He’d heard Aurora had picked up her own assignment there working the flowers in and out of the greenhouse there, if he could hold off the news of where he was for now, he’d like to continue to do so.

He got there to the same assembled group of freshmen as last time.

“Same as last time, cows need milkin’, chickens need feedin’, if you don’t want to do it I don’t care, I don’t need the lot of ya anyway.”

One of the kids raised his hand, and Banjo sighed deeply. Why did he even say anything?

“Yes, Lonely Hearts?”

“Umm—are we—wait—are you going to call me 'Lonely Hearts' every time?”

“Yes, Lonely Hearts.” He replied flatly.

He turned to the rest. “Anyone else?”

“No, wait, that wasn’t my question.”

“Then why are you wasting my time with things that aren’t your question, Lonely Hearts? Why don’t you take a page out of Next-to-Blondie’s book? She’s not botherin’ no-one.”

“We’ve got Homecoming Trials today.”

“Not a question, Lonely Hearts.”

Banjo started walking to the milking sheds, the group followed him. He sighed again.

“I was just wondering… Could you tell us anything about them?”

“Ask a teacher. I’m not—”

“You’re not a teacher.” Blondie, Next-to-Blondie and Hugh all said in unison.

“There. See. They catch on. Why can’t you?”

“Well, it’s just… None of them have really told us much of anything, like it’s some big secret. And you’re the only senior I know.”

“I’m the only senior you know?” He stopped walking and turned to look at the freshmen.

“Well, yeah…”

Banjo laughed at him. “Well, you poor bastard…” He went right on back to walking to the milking sheds.

“Alright… hopefully you’ve got some sense of how to milk cows now. Keep in pairs so at least one of you might have the sense to tell the other when you do something braindead. Two on cows, two on chickens. When you’re done with the chickens, help on cows. Wait… are you all sticking around, or are some of you chuffing off?”

“We’re all here, Miste—” ‘Hugh’ said.

“No.” Banjo cut him off firmly, with a side-eyed glance, a scowl knitted across his brows, and pointing at him.

“I’m not a—”

“You’re not a teacher.”

“Too bloody right.”

The freshmen paired off whilst Banjo made his way to the barn. He’d baled feed specifically for today, he was going to be time-short, and wouldn’t be returning to the barn due to the Homecoming trials, so none of the livestock could be released to the outer paddocks for a feed.

Checking nobody was around, he rode the feeling of juicing up once more, and stacked six bales on top of each other, and carried them in his arms with a pitchfork resting atop. His view obscured by the comedically large stack, he walked sideways out of the barn and made his way to the sheep.

He put the bales down and threw two over the fence. Jumping the fence with one hand on the post, before breaking up the bales with the pitchfork. He checked the water levels, before jumping back and carrying the remaining bales to the other interior paddocks, feeding the remaining stock in much the same way.

He detoured back via the stables, where he fed and scooped after the horses, leaving one hills pony for last.

“G’day. Gonna be a short day today.” He said, pulling sugar cubes from his dorm’s coffee set-up from his pocket. “So you’re gonna be hemmed in today. Sorry ‘bout that. Blame the young’uns.” He stroked it’s face, before resting his forehead on the horse’s.

“Mmm. They’re not so bad. Just a batch-a dim bulbs. They’ll brighten up as they get warm.”

He patted the top of her mane once more and left to check on their progress.



Banjo began the slow trudge back to the Mess Hall, where the rest of his team would be waiting.

He got there just in time for their faculty representative to decide to stop dragging his feet and move Team 21 onwards to the stadium itself

“Alright Blackjack, looks like everyone is accounted for. Any stragglers can catch up as you all know the drill by now.”

“Shut up, Tad!” Banjo called out over the crowd, smirking as he watched the smaller man’s neck stiffen in typical reflexive response to hearing Banjo’s voice. “We all know you slept in the A.R.C over the holidays. A hard light projection is not a real friend!”

It had become the soundtrack to the day-to-day for team Blackjack, very rarely did he hit a one-liner that broke the team up in laughter. A lot fell flat. Many were tuned out as tedious background noise. Some even drew disappointment or groans from his teammates, but it didn’t stop him throwing one out there seemingly any time Tad Finch spoke. He seemingly had a never ending reserve of them ranging from the pointed to the abstract and weird.

The group found their level as they’d pair or group up on their walk, minor chatter which hushed as the Stadium drew near.

He felt Calliope’s arm slide in to his, a welcome surprise, and the pair made their way into the Chimera’s Lair.

He felt Calliope lean against him as they found their seats and was warmed by the notion that she still seemed to be in the same headspace as the previous night. Someone who knew him so well and still wanted more. He wanted to hug her, but settled for resting his head wordlessly on hers.

The orchestra began to play, building to the introduction.

“All rise for the national anthem!”

All in attendance rose, and as the orchestra belted out their best efforts at ‘O Canada’ which Banjo sang along to…

…with the lyrics of ‘True Blue’ by John Williamson. A little off key, but he was hardly known for his singing.

‘True Blue… Is it me and yoooooou…
Is it Mum and Daaaad, Is it a cockatooooooo?


Haven looked down the aisle at him. Of course, her hearing… He held his hands out and mouthed ‘What?’ before continuing his song, broad grin across his face. Calliope nudged him in the ribs, her lips trying to hold a laugh in.

Is it standin’ by your maaaate… when he’s in a fiiiiight
Or just veg-e-miiiiite
True Blue, I’m aaaarskin’ yoooou…’


The anthem drew to a close and everyone shuffled and scuffed to return to their seats.

“It’s my pleasure now to welcome to the stage your newly elected Chancellor, a man instrumental in defeating Hyperion and a dear personal friend, James O’Neil!”

“And now, for some folksy patter from ‘Ol Righty’” Banjo thought to himself.

“Blahbity blah, wordsin’ it up. Boy howdy. Gosh gee folks. I tell ya what…” Banjo thought to himself as the new Chancellor spoke, before getting distracted by the other figures taking up the stage who he had never seen before. Trying to place her, but coming up with nothing.

Banjo suddenly felt eyes on him. More than quite a few. “Wait… did a telepath just project my thoughts or… oh. A joke at my expense.” He smiled at the foolishness of his first thoughts.

“With that in mind, I’d like to bring y’alls attention to a special visitor.” Banjo shook his head and chuckled at the ‘y’alls’.

“As a part of our ongoing efforts to improve the school and do best by each of you, Pacific Royal is looking at collaborating with the Alexandria Foundation … ”

Ohhhh right. Them. Zimmerman was going on about them earlier.

Cheers rose from all around him. Some reference to sport, by the looks and overwhelming enthusiasm of Rory and Katja.

“But we’re looking for your cooperation in making Ms. Torres and her fellow Foundation members feel as welcome as you would a new student. The Foundation will be auditing classes and learning how we do things at Pacific Royal. Be sure to show them why our Chimeras are the best.”

Wait… they’re gonna be in our classrooms, watching our classes? Banjo fought off a laugh at the news. Maaaaate, I’ll show these tights under dax jokers a thing or two they’ve never seen before…

“Sadly, this isn’t all pomp and circumstance, I do have to rain on this parade.”

Banjo raised a brow. These early year assemblies NEVER had a down twist or turn. If they could they’d push bad news further down the line, once people had settled. They hated to rain on their Homecoming. Hated it. As in move Heaven and Earth to avoid it… and they had quite a few people who powerwise could probably move heaven or earth just for the feng shui of it all…

“Given the current societal climate, circumstances beyond our control have conspired to invalidate our accreditations. To be straight with y’all, Pacific Royal has recently lost its accreditations for our degree programs in the engineering, law and medical fields. Students currently completing those will graduate with a degree not recognized for career certifications.”

Huh…

Next to him, he heard Calliope inhale. And that’s where his concern was right now. He concentrated on what he was hearing, but held her hand and kept watch on her. He wasn’t bothered by how this could affect him, he’d formed backup plans years ago, not wanting to ever rely on this place or let it hold the fact they might flunk him out over him. He didn’t need their paper. If he bombed out he could just drive south of the border, he’d researched it. Washington state was one of the few states in the United States where you could take the BAR exam without need of a law degree. If they tried to stick it to him, he could get his BAR card in an afternoon. Work on locations it would transfer to, loop holes and administrative edges, and find a way to reunite with Calli within the week.

But this wasn’t his plans getting derailed. It was the unthinkable. They were doing this to HER.

And he knew exactly how she’d be taking it.

“Rest assured, we are working around the clock to get approval for credit transfer to several distinguished universities in both Canada and the United States. We do not want your hard work to go to waste. The Bureau has agreed to pay tuition for any student who chooses to transfer along with helping relocate students to their new campus. I understand going to another school is not ideal—”

He felt her tremble against him. She needed more. She was spiralling. He squeezed her hand to let her know he was there.

She raised her head, and he felt relieved that she had at least regained enough composure to do at least that much. He could see she wanted to cry but she wouldn’t. He put his head near hers and tried to offer a reassuring smile, but she wasn’t ready for that yet, wasn’t even aware he was doing it. He was turned almost completely to her, and away from the stage. She was his focus.

He wished this problem had a face, so he could punch it.

And then one of the newcomers broke their silence.

“Provided Pacific Royal and its Bureau are amenable to our conditional terms, the Alexandria Foundation has authorized me to extend our certifications to the students of the affected programs.”

Banjo’s head raised. Timely. Too timely.

He lifted his head above Calliope for a few seconds and took in the entire crowd, as they filled the stadium, and a singular thought flashed into his mind as he took them all in.

‘Shareholders’.

He had no interest in entering Corporate law, but he had developed at least a broad understanding from his Law classes in general.

He turned back to the stage with a scowl.

He recognised a hostile takeover when he saw one.

He returned his attention to Calliope, and tried to ground her in the present.

“As many of you are already aware, the Alexandria Foundation is here this year to audit Pacific Royal and to bring it up to our standards. We’re interested in acquiring this school and helping it move past that, what would you call it, Mr O’Neil? Little faux-pas with your previous Chancellor.”

Geez-us… Now that one was heavy. Not the shot at the school. That was intended to bait. To draw conflict from Jim, from someone, as he heard comments from those within his team, it would’ve even worked on some. But that wasn’t what Banjo took from it.

Acquisition. They had confidence they could do it. They weren’t at all afraid of saying the quiet part loud.

“The Foundation holds the students of Pacific Royal in very high regard and we want to ensure each of you is allowed to succeed this year. So far we’ve been met with resistance from your administration, but we’re looking for your support. So please, tell your Team Advisor, your Faculty Representatives, anyone who will lend you an ear that you want a new path forward for P.R.C.U.”

He turned his attention back to the crowd again. Another plea to the ‘shareholders’. Trying to further drive a wedge in the schism. Right in front of Jim. They’re baiting him, and selling to them.

But Jim O’Neil was a man used to not taking the bait. After all… he’d had to deal with Banjo’s bullshit for five years. He wasn’t buying this kind of sucker play, as much as he might have wanted to unload with that Smith & Wesson 629 he was rumoured to carry, or have in the drawer of his desk, if you listened to the fantastic tales of the student body.

“Continuous improvement, that’s exactly why we have allowed the Foundation here this year.” Jim interrupted, maintaining composure and attempting to wrangle back control of the stage, seizing the podium whilst raising his hands to clap the effort. His eyes held dual meanings to their ‘esteemed guests’, but his body language stayed true to message for the kids. “Students, let’s give a good ol’ Pacific Royal Welcome to Ms. Torres and her aid, Miss Almassian.”

Haven dropped a threat that extended beyond ‘implied’, and Calli made her feelings known.

“Whoever she is, I hate her. If she thinks I’m doing anything to make her life easier here, she has another thing coming.”

She had assumed enough control to get herself to her feet, no longer spiralling, now perhaps powered by her own rage.

“I need to use the restroom, I’ll be right back.” She said icily.

Banjo nodded, but made a mental note to check on her in a few minutes if she didn’t come back promptly. He offered her an expression of concern, hoping to get something back to convince him that she would be alright, but she was too driven to look back.

And now, with a thorough dampener poured over proceedings, they attempted to return to the festivities of the Homecoming Trials.

He could just imagine the rage coming from Jim and the inner faculty. They HATED anything to interrupt this, they’d hold off on bad news to prevent things souring this moment. It was a sacred cow like few others this school had. Even Banjo was hesitant and usually pulled some kind of prank early before, rather than the day of, because he knew how nuts they were over this for some reason.

They continued with the ceremonial aspects, which included busting out human firelighter Lorcán's Dad, to light the ceremonial torch.

Banjo looked down the aisle and he was gone. So had Calli, and so had Aurora.

He thought to himself for a moment about everyone who had gone, and everything that had just transpired, and the newest latest threat, and started to wonder something. He started to wonder how someone in particular was handling everything that had just come to pass.

His head turned to look down the aisle and...

Calliope came back down the aisle and forcefully sat down in her seat once more. “I’m fine.” She stated in a tone that made it clear it was not to be argued with.

“Fair enough.” Banjo thought to himself.

Calliope brushed against him on her way through, but as always he doesn't feel the cold shoulder.

It's looking past her and watching their newest teammate's full-throated laugh that chills him to his core.
In Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP → 7 mos ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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