Lady Selune

Legend of the Silver Legion Redux (Open)

*Looks around*

*sits down*

Comfy.

Intrigue in the Fifth City - A Fallen London RP

I didn't realise I was required, apologies.

Retaking the Front (40k Astra Militarum Roleplay, Currently Full)

"We're both men 'a command, I'm just showing ya some leadership comraderie. If ya say so though. Colour-Sargent it is, ain't it?" His fingers continued to play across the handle of his melta gun, running along the individual little grooves, his fingernail plucking out little bits of grime and catching it in his gloves. "Besides, I spent a lot o' fuckin' time in tha guard, and I won't get much better than ya." He chuckled a little again. He liked the praetorian, he had decided. He was dry, and stern, but he was a decent guy, it seemed. "'Ey, not much different to me then. 'Cept I never 'ad a real love. Just a string af women in different travels. Or bunkers."

Black Fever was nasty though. Didn't wish that on anyone, that was for sure. Shame that. He nodded slowly to himself, feeling the ship shudder around him a little bit. The vacuum of space you couldn't hear point defences flashing and crackling, or ships imploding and leaking oxygen, and he preferred it that way. Hearing screams and such was always annoying when you were taking a lander. His mask continued to provide 'fresh' air to him, and he realised something. He hadn't put a fresh filter in. Reaching up to his face, he clicked off the thumb-sized filter and pulled it out, then replaced it. Rinse and repeat with the other side, and then he slipped his goggles on.

"Alright. Harakoni Warhawks." He took a few deep breaths. Perfect. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the combat filter on his goggles. He was ready. Adrenaline started to pound through him, and he cracked his knuckles, slipping the strap over his shoulder.

"Harakonari an tellika regala!" He held a single fist up. For all the bastards he had fought beside that had been cut down. For all the fuckers he had cut down with his weaponry. To the fucker that would end up killing him. Time to enjoy another life or death situation.

Hellpact

Things went downhill rapidly. Accusations flying like bullets, Erin and Mallaidh having the pointers of suspicion firmly placed on them, brains being brought out... It was all very dramatic, and very unscientific. She would have to dissect things, and then reply to Devyn. Not an issue at all. Firstly, the matter of Alonzo. Supposedly he was a magical mercenary of some sort, and she could easily believe him. Those looked to be burn or shrapnel scars, although she had to admit she wasn't a medical professional, but with his claims, it did make sense. Next came him opening up a rift. A parlour trick, nothing more. An impressive one, but very much a parlour trick. She examined the embalmed brain, and then he spoke into her mind.

She recoiled. Holding her head, she frantically looked at the man, before taking a number of deep breaths. No, no, she couldn't get worked up. Instead, she slowly stood up and cracked her fingers individually, looking at Alonzo as she did so. The man continued to talk, to lay the blame on others, but she wasn't convinced. She had come to a conclusion based not on parlour tricks or magical vials of... Best not to think about it too hard. She had come to a conclusion based on empirical evidence, and she was never wrong.

Before she could speak, of course, everything went to hell once more. Erin started exclaiming and gesturing, and then switched her personalities like she was playing cards, not people. Elizabeth wasn't convinced, and, unlike Alonzo, she could attest to knowing where her weapon was stowed, although as to the first question, that she was unsure of. She did have a marvellously good insult lined up, however, she had to appreciate that.

Devyn was next to speak, and she found herself agreeing with the woman once more. Perhaps she would need to change her tact with Devyn- consider her an ally, not enemy. Perhaps not. There was plenty of time to tell. She cleared her throat, and inclined her head at the other woman. "Thank you Devyn. Alonzo, unlike the rest of us, is far too familiar with this situation. His clothing is of suspiciously good tailoring, if you'll note, even now it's not pinching him, where any store-bought shirt would be. Clearly tailored to fit to his own body dimensions. Furthermore, despite claiming himself to be a magical mercenary, and although the promise of payment has been made, money has not exchanged hands, he has immediately turned towards Lady Eve for approval of his actions." A small smirk played across her lips, even as the bastard child adopted by bastard mother cropped up. She ignored her chattering in her inane accent.

"Furthermore, none of the others fit with the mole. The Scotsman, Ross, I believe, is too uncomfortable with the fineries we are currently enjoying, especially the butler. That makes me think he is simply unused to this, and if he routinely spent time around Lady Eve, that would be unlikely. Mallaidh, is clearly not the plant, for reasons that are far too numerous for me to get into right now, even if she is the perfect example of an enigma encased in a mystery." She pulled out the neck of her turtleneck a little bit, getting into her evidence.

"This leaves you, Devyn, Erin and Morgan. Morgan is not the plant. For a start, she has recently come off a rather bumpy plane ride, is tanned beyond what one would experience over here, and has an Australian accent. Furthermore, I believe Lady Eve to not be in the business of associating with people such as her, and I do not mean her age. Then, perhaps it is Erin. Certainly, she fits in with the style that our host has pursued, apart from the fact that she is black where our host is white, blood where our host is life, and so on. Furthermore, she fits with Morgan in the fact that she does not seem to be the sort of person Lady Eve will associate with. For both of them, I direct you to the girl's gloves and the woman's vial, which is not normal blood."

She stood up dead straight now, her hand sweeping around a little bit. They wanted to bicker and use magic? She had her own damned mind, far better and more keen than waving your hand a vial of blood from a fucking miscarrage. "Which finally leaves Devyn and Alonzo! Devyn, you, whilst being both American and not having any of the immediate things that tipped me off, are not the plant. I can tell this because you also have the look of someone that has recently stepped off a plane, and you are subtly displeased with the good Lady Eve, and her in return. This then leads me to point the finger of blame at one single person! That person is you Alonzo, and I have heard nothing other than threats that confirm. My. Own. Thoughts!" She finished with a flourish of her hand, and then crossed her arms.

"Now, without parlour tricks, without magical vials or strange telekinesis, that is how I reached my conclusion!"