Kefka Palazzo — Roleplayer Guild

A Separate Society is an idea of mine I’ve had to catalog my modern day roleplays, allowing for integration and interaction across characters and storylines that live in this city. All A Separate Society roleplays are set in a fictional version of modern day Chicago, and are all set in the present day.  

Wildest Dreams ​
Jonas Quinn, a middle aged computer software engineer for Cavalier, Inc, has grown weary of his ordinary life. He’s been married for nearly twenty years to his highschool sweetheart, and is the father of two teenage daughters. For a while, it had been enough. He had been genuinely happy, but when he turned Thirty Seven, something just felt off. He woke up one day in his home, went to work, and started to wonder what else there was in this life. His life seemed rather ordinary to him, plain, and he found himself hungering for more. This revelation was nearly six months ago. Now he is separating from his wife, living in a one room apartment downtown, living off one night stands and cheap thrills. He knows that he cannot go back to the life he’s left, but can’t find a way to move forward.

This roleplay will center on Jonas Quinn, and a much younger woman whom he meets randomly, and the resulting romance. It will be an exploration of the idea that opposites attract. Jonas is, even through all of his attempts to break out of his shell, a very predictable, very confined individual. A cup of coffee with his eggs and toast for breakfast kind of guy. The character opposite him should be outgoing, fun loving, charismatic. Someone who can teach Jonas Quinn above life, and fill in that part of himself that he’s missing.  

Themes: Age Difference, Romance, Possible Drug Use, Adult Themes. 

Cidolphus Escovane

Twenty Seven | 15, September | 6’0” | First Class
“They’re watching you die, and when you’re gone it’s like you weren’t even there…“ 

 Mrihl - The Silver Scale

The longer the journey onboard the Behemoth, the more cramped and confined Cidolphus grew to feel, and by the time they arrived in Mrihl, Cid found himself as eager to get out of the Behemoth had he had been to get onboard the hulking vehicle at their journey’s start.  The hours left him feeling coiled, as though the spent the trip with knees up to his chest and head tucked into the darkness of his chest.  The first thing he noticed, upon exiting the behemoth, was the freshness air.  The breeze was gentle, cool, and fragrant with the smells of roasting chicken and boar his mind attributed to the manor’s kitchen preparing to receive their guests.  The idea of fresh meat, of a warm meal and a bed to lay on and stretch out knotted, weary muscles was enough to tempt the young man, but his heart yearned for something else entirely.  For hours now, he’s been cooped up with nothing more than his thoughts and the stable hum of the behemoth to occupy him, aside from the occasional comment from his traveling companions.  There hadn’t been much as far as conversation, the lot of them clearly as different as they were similar, and nobody looking to open up or talk in anything more than a necessary capacity.  At least, none of it had managed to catch Cid’s attention had it gone on, but in truth, his mind had been occupied by the events of the battlefield, and it’s puzzling end. 

These were the thoughts that Cid has spent the last few hours engulfed in, the thoughts that drove from his mind everything else, as he tried to relive and understand what had happened.  He could feel the serge of energy building up within him, as if it were born of his own blood.  Like heat that seemed to radiate off his skin after a particularly strenuous exercise session, the power was born from within, and perhaps what complexes him the most,    was the fact without prior training or understanding of such abilities, he felt as though not only did he understand them, but he could recreate it.  He could have thrown the eagle’s wind right back to them.   

What scares him, as he stands on the outside of the behemoth, listening to the large form of the quaint hamlet’s baron, is that if he had desired to do so, he could produce the same effect now, hours later.

He pushed away the thought, told himself that perhaps what he needed was a way to take his mind off it all.  Cid was a warrior, a master of stealth and agility, good with technology… he was no mage.  Not in the way the stories portrayed them.  He had always been a quick study, that was true, but a talent buried in a quick mind and vast capacity for understanding the mechanics and physics of a trick.  He could see the sleight of hand that most did not.  He could see the barely visible threads, or the crisp edge of a mirror, a hidden door, a trap in the floor.  Trick the thief had taken into his own bag of tricks throughout the years.  But magic.   Magic was a childhood’s fancy.  

The baron led the group within, but Cid decided not to follow.  The others passed, as Cid wordlessly let himself slip away into the nearest shadow, disappearing while the others concerned themselves with rest and food.  His mind plagued him, his thoughts a swimming torrent of children’s stories and probable doubts.  He longed for the voice, that voice which he had grown accustomed to, which seemed to set right world when it began to tilt one way or another.  The voice that began as the lessons of Soldier began: he longed for Alice, for the gentle curls of her brown hair, the depth of her emerald eyes.  

Once away from the baron’s estate, Cid felt the world open around him.  Space, as though he had been just now released from chains that hung form him, chains of duty and expectations.  For the moment, as he stopped to peer back the way he had come, he was alone.  Soldier was never something he could be rid of, not once it had become a part of him, but that doesn’t mean that for a few minutes he couldn’t allow himself to breathe free of its watchful eyes.  It was duty, honor, respect, military structure, and to a soul that lived its life free of rules and hierarchy, it was stifling.   In the moment its grip loosened on him, suddenly he was aware of the salt in the air, the quaint, aged appearance of the old town of Mrihl, as his boots scooted across cobble stone streets.  The thoughts that had bene plaguing him fell away as the first notes of the lute caught his attention.  A soft, distant sound, melody carrying over the distance on the back of the smell of roasting fish and freshly baked bread.  

Perhaps it was his freedom, perhaps it was the music, or the fact that for the first time since the battle with the eagles his mind was empty, but Cid suddenly felt very hungry.  His left hand dipped into his pocket, drawing forth a handful of coins, peering over the lot to determine if he believed himself enough for a good meal.  The music carried his feet as the gil fell back into his pockets, his eyes looking over the town as he walked, guided by ears and nose, through the main square of the small town.  It took him but a few minutes before he came to stand at the doorway of a small  busy inn, the source of both the smell of roasted fish, and the strumming melody of the lute.   The inn was well lit, and with enough life in it to seem inviting, yet not so busy as to seem, at least initial, as something overly dangerous or troublesome.  The warmth that passed through the door, as a young man came out of the building and scurried off into the darkness, was inviting against the cool chill of the night, and the longer Cid stood in the door, smelling the sweet smells of baked bread and fresh fish, the more he began to notice the empty, churning feeling that took up residence in his belly. He opened the door, and stepped within. 

“Take a seat” came the gruff voice of the innkeeper, as Cid was noticed, and had he been noticed by any other than the older man, he didn’t take note of it.  The crowd was busy within itself.  The group of more than half made up of men, the majority of them dressed in gray and white fishmen’s clothing, telling their tales and laughing between one another.  The barmaids scurried between tables, going about their work to keep happy the small crowd within.   A few kept their eyes glued to the stage, where a young woman, seemingly little beyond the age of a child, sat with lute in her hands, fingers busy strumming the melody that had been calling to him.  Plates of fish and potatoes, bowls of some kind of soup or stew, and loaves of fragrant bread passed him as he made his way through the small inn, to come to a table along the far wall, and he sat with his back to the hard wooden surface.  

When the maid stopped by his table, Cid ordered a plate of fish and potatoes, a cup of that honeyed tea he saw floating about the place, and a loaf of bread with some cheese.

“Yer not from around these parts, I’m afraid you’ll have to pay up first,” The maid spoke, her voice friendly enough, and her red curls settled around her shoulders just enough to frame the  deep slit in her blouse .  Friendly was hardly the word of it as she did an exaggerated bend across the table to collect the coins from him, and again, as she brought his food and drink.  The first, Cid had taken notice of, felt the blood stir in his face, the second, his attention had already been taken by the young woman sitting on the stage with lute in hand.   She couldn’t have been much more than seventeen, with long blonde curls, and the deepest emerald eyes Cid has seen since… 

Alice flooded back into memory, and memories danced with the melody of the lute.

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