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- LimeyPanda 11 yrs ago
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Thanks. Just thought I'd push us along a little, hope I didn't do too much :D
Well: since everyone has analysed the crap out of the limited infomation we have, I'm just going to throw this one out there and say that, as it stands, Alicia would want to go to Liveria no matter what. As a character, she would struggle to go elsewhere unless told to by someone high up that it is important.
To add one seemingly missed strand of analysis: An alliance with the Amazons would be hugely beneficial. They are mostly unaffected by infighting (The holds, Imperium, etc.), have access to the Blood river and, perhaps most important, stand to gain the most out of Blade's help. They are the nation that is made weakest if not helped and since they are characteristically passionate individuals, are most likely to be very loyal/appreciative to Renalta.
To add one seemingly missed strand of analysis: An alliance with the Amazons would be hugely beneficial. They are mostly unaffected by infighting (The holds, Imperium, etc.), have access to the Blood river and, perhaps most important, stand to gain the most out of Blade's help. They are the nation that is made weakest if not helped and since they are characteristically passionate individuals, are most likely to be very loyal/appreciative to Renalta.
The Ifrit merely watched as things went about as they always do: chaotically, an unorganized mess, a plan made complex by contrasting personalities. One of them acted loyal and confused: swatting away the dead and protecting the slightly less dead. Another tried to orchestrate the insanity, a broken fragment of this world trying to splinter away from the realm of the dead.
And then there was Max: detestable at times, yet lovable at others. He sought to liberate the others: A last moment of heroism, following a strange life indeed. Kata didn't know what to think of the man, if she were honest. Jay-Jay had held animosity towards it, but Kata couldn't find that same level of dislike. He was trying very hard, it seemed, and while others would surely agree he was a trying individual, the Ifrit still struggled to fault him.
Daisy was interesting in the way she led the situation. She made assumptions of Kata that were interesting, to say the least. It seemed like the Reaper was sorry that the spirit had died: as if the death was an accident, or as if it were not desired. The urge to correct her was there, but she chose not to in the end. After all, it seemed that she had one last part to play in the lives, or deaths: as it were, of Bane and Hoyle's employees.
Daisy's words were interesting in another way, for she described the group as a beacon. If the detestable-yet-lovable Max picked up on this, or it was merely coincidence, but the strange Warlock made a show of himself: acting the perfect example of a beacon as one could find in a textbook. The Ifrit couldn’t help but be amused by the show of bravado: it seemed so out of place, and yet so very correct at the same time. Kata was tempted to go and help him in the show of brazen disrespect towards the god, but then she also wanted to offer the reaper a chance to fulfil her plan. Instead, she decided to offer the Warlock something to work with, she threw a little ball of fire that seemed to float next to the Warlock: a strange, unearthly heat. Let us see what the warlock can do with a dash of demonfire.
“Whatever it is you need to do, Reaper, do it. I’m ready to sleep, but dragging Fenris in with me would be a final delight.” The Ifrit looked at Daisy and offered a smile. Perhaps it was remnants of Jay-Jay’s feelings for the girl as a friend, but she liked Daisy well enough that she trusted her to be the one that ‘killed’ her. It felt more personal that way: soothing, almost.
Jay-Jay had not expected to be consoled or comforted. She had thought that being alone would make things easier, but in the end: she felt a glad-ness for Henry’s presence. Solitude had made her more uneasy, as the silence spoke so much louder than the words of condolence that the Siren offered. To be so alone and so silent, after so long a period of shared tenancy was…
She sobbed wordlessly into the Siren’s chest, eyes closed and tears fresh. She knew that she shouldn’t be sad: that it was such a selfish sadness that was overtaking her. Kata had given herself to save others: it was a noble death, and a death that she had sought. Jay-Jay had been aware of the demon’s memories: of her sad creation and swift rejection on all sides. The end had been a comfortable time for Kata, a time in which her purpose shone brighter than any other flame might.
And yet, Jay-Jay missed her. The demon host missed her companion who had played so many roles: mentor, protector, occasional mocker. It was a selfish sadness, but wasn’t sadness so often selfish?
She tried to find words to say to Henry: Words of thanks or apologies for the show of selfishness or words to refute what he said. Anything would be better than silence, because silence just reminded her of what was gone. She saw the Siren’s small smile, an offer of a new tomorrow, maybe. A little promise that the world had not ended, just changed. “It’s…It’s kind of funny. Our own little worlds…destroyed and remade. Our own…our own little Ragnarök.” She tried to offer the Siren a smile, but ultimately failed. She fell back into the motions of selfish sadness, sobbing into his chest once more.
And then there was Max: detestable at times, yet lovable at others. He sought to liberate the others: A last moment of heroism, following a strange life indeed. Kata didn't know what to think of the man, if she were honest. Jay-Jay had held animosity towards it, but Kata couldn't find that same level of dislike. He was trying very hard, it seemed, and while others would surely agree he was a trying individual, the Ifrit still struggled to fault him.
Daisy was interesting in the way she led the situation. She made assumptions of Kata that were interesting, to say the least. It seemed like the Reaper was sorry that the spirit had died: as if the death was an accident, or as if it were not desired. The urge to correct her was there, but she chose not to in the end. After all, it seemed that she had one last part to play in the lives, or deaths: as it were, of Bane and Hoyle's employees.
Daisy's words were interesting in another way, for she described the group as a beacon. If the detestable-yet-lovable Max picked up on this, or it was merely coincidence, but the strange Warlock made a show of himself: acting the perfect example of a beacon as one could find in a textbook. The Ifrit couldn’t help but be amused by the show of bravado: it seemed so out of place, and yet so very correct at the same time. Kata was tempted to go and help him in the show of brazen disrespect towards the god, but then she also wanted to offer the reaper a chance to fulfil her plan. Instead, she decided to offer the Warlock something to work with, she threw a little ball of fire that seemed to float next to the Warlock: a strange, unearthly heat. Let us see what the warlock can do with a dash of demonfire.
“Whatever it is you need to do, Reaper, do it. I’m ready to sleep, but dragging Fenris in with me would be a final delight.” The Ifrit looked at Daisy and offered a smile. Perhaps it was remnants of Jay-Jay’s feelings for the girl as a friend, but she liked Daisy well enough that she trusted her to be the one that ‘killed’ her. It felt more personal that way: soothing, almost.
Jay-Jay had not expected to be consoled or comforted. She had thought that being alone would make things easier, but in the end: she felt a glad-ness for Henry’s presence. Solitude had made her more uneasy, as the silence spoke so much louder than the words of condolence that the Siren offered. To be so alone and so silent, after so long a period of shared tenancy was…
She sobbed wordlessly into the Siren’s chest, eyes closed and tears fresh. She knew that she shouldn’t be sad: that it was such a selfish sadness that was overtaking her. Kata had given herself to save others: it was a noble death, and a death that she had sought. Jay-Jay had been aware of the demon’s memories: of her sad creation and swift rejection on all sides. The end had been a comfortable time for Kata, a time in which her purpose shone brighter than any other flame might.
And yet, Jay-Jay missed her. The demon host missed her companion who had played so many roles: mentor, protector, occasional mocker. It was a selfish sadness, but wasn’t sadness so often selfish?
She tried to find words to say to Henry: Words of thanks or apologies for the show of selfishness or words to refute what he said. Anything would be better than silence, because silence just reminded her of what was gone. She saw the Siren’s small smile, an offer of a new tomorrow, maybe. A little promise that the world had not ended, just changed. “It’s…It’s kind of funny. Our own little worlds…destroyed and remade. Our own…our own little Ragnarök.” She tried to offer the Siren a smile, but ultimately failed. She fell back into the motions of selfish sadness, sobbing into his chest once more.
Watching Chris' progress gave Beth at least something to do as she leaned against her palm, already bored with the fact that she was now on people watching duty. It was hard to think that bank heists could ever be boring but eventually: you had to realise that 90% of a good heist was just watching the scared people and making sure they didn't do anything stupid or heroic. The other 10% was the fun stuff: the guns, the car chases, the getting paid and the occasional banter you got with the actual career heist guys: The ones who had funny stories and cool attitudes and aliases that didn't sound better on a porn star.
Glancing down at the camera again, she saw Fist-o and the blonde bimbo make their way down to the vault itself. She had a view of the top of the stairs, but that was it: no camera underground. The whole bank set up had her wondering what kind of schmuck installed the camera system, because there were more gaping holes in the CCTV's infrastructure than Beth had imaginative ways of saying 'go fuck yourself.'
Either way, Beth found herself bored with looking at nothing on the cameras, so she decided to take a tour of the peons. As she stepped on by, most of them shirked away from her, as if moving back a couple inches might make them invisible to the small woman who knocked the security guard into next fucking week with a single blow. She sat down in one of the bank's many benches and just looked at one particular hostage: a kind-of-yummy looking schmuck, if not for the 'Oh-shit-please-don't-kill-me' look in his eyes: nothing was less sexy than a pussy. "Hey, hey numb nuts."
The scared looking guy glanced up at her, managing to squeak out a "W-what?" before his voice cracked.
"Be honest with me, who is hotter, the blonde bimbo cash clerk or me? I promise not to shoot you if you're honest."
The man seemed to pause, confusion replacing terror for a second. "I-I couldn't say. You've got a mask on, so I can't...be...sure."
Beth rolled her eyes under the latex mask, annoyed at the answer, but not faulting it. "Fine then: would you fuck the bimbo?"
"Uh..."
Beth looked down at him, mask's gaze fixed on him in something close to disapproval. "Don't pussy foot me whateveryourname is. I want a real fucking answer."
"I...I guess I would? She's pretty hot."
Beth muttered something under her breath, before she got to say anything more, a large boom seemed to echo through the bank itself, telling Beth that Fist-o had begun to actually pull his weight. Beth was ready for the man to hurry up and bring the loot, but the job phone began buzzing, and she felt like punching someone.
She answered the phone, listening to the words of Fist-o with a growing annoyance. “Are you fucking kidding me? I expected you to waste my time by fucking that whore you got down there, not like this. I swear: if shit starts going wrong when I get down there, it is so on you.” Cutting the phone off on her end, the driver grumbled down the stairs as she suddenly felt a desire to punch something…anything would do.
Two minutes was all it took for the figure of Beth to appear in the doorway to the vault, mask taken off because of how uncomfortable the fucking thing was. She looked at the tied up blonde bimbo with a smile, and then turned back to Chris. “Glad to see you had the balls to actually shut her up, fist-o. Now why did you call me do-“
Suddenly, the woman was silenced as she spotted the rather large looking artefact inside the vault: and nothing else. She looked over at Chris with an annoyed look on her face. “So this is what we are after? Seems a pretty fucking bizarre thing to hire us for, not that I’m complaining.” Walking forward, she decides to get a closer look at the artefact, as well as the odd little jewels on the floor. She reached down and picked up a particularly big blue gem: cold to the touch and glowing like a piece of ice.
She held the gem, mesmerized by the glow of the gem as she idly touched the artefact. As soon as her hand connected with the box, something strange happened: a little blue flash and a sudden sensation of cold shooting up her arm had her recoiling in shock, stepping away from the box in a moment of scared terror. During that same moment of terror, the lustre of the blue gem seems to fade a bit, as if empty.
“The fuck?!”
It was just in that moment that a noise scared the living shit out of her: the sound of an alarm buzzer being set off. Someone upstairs must have gotten behind the clerk’s desk and pressed the big red button. “Oh for fuck’s sake. Now we have the fucking 5-0 to deal with, as well. Fucking fantastic: all because you feel the need to show me your box.” She wraps a hand around the edge of the artefact, trying to lift it but finding it just a little too heavy. “Fuck me. Grab that red gem and the box limp dick, we need to go, now.”
Glancing down at the camera again, she saw Fist-o and the blonde bimbo make their way down to the vault itself. She had a view of the top of the stairs, but that was it: no camera underground. The whole bank set up had her wondering what kind of schmuck installed the camera system, because there were more gaping holes in the CCTV's infrastructure than Beth had imaginative ways of saying 'go fuck yourself.'
Either way, Beth found herself bored with looking at nothing on the cameras, so she decided to take a tour of the peons. As she stepped on by, most of them shirked away from her, as if moving back a couple inches might make them invisible to the small woman who knocked the security guard into next fucking week with a single blow. She sat down in one of the bank's many benches and just looked at one particular hostage: a kind-of-yummy looking schmuck, if not for the 'Oh-shit-please-don't-kill-me' look in his eyes: nothing was less sexy than a pussy. "Hey, hey numb nuts."
The scared looking guy glanced up at her, managing to squeak out a "W-what?" before his voice cracked.
"Be honest with me, who is hotter, the blonde bimbo cash clerk or me? I promise not to shoot you if you're honest."
The man seemed to pause, confusion replacing terror for a second. "I-I couldn't say. You've got a mask on, so I can't...be...sure."
Beth rolled her eyes under the latex mask, annoyed at the answer, but not faulting it. "Fine then: would you fuck the bimbo?"
"Uh..."
Beth looked down at him, mask's gaze fixed on him in something close to disapproval. "Don't pussy foot me whateveryourname is. I want a real fucking answer."
"I...I guess I would? She's pretty hot."
Beth muttered something under her breath, before she got to say anything more, a large boom seemed to echo through the bank itself, telling Beth that Fist-o had begun to actually pull his weight. Beth was ready for the man to hurry up and bring the loot, but the job phone began buzzing, and she felt like punching someone.
She answered the phone, listening to the words of Fist-o with a growing annoyance. “Are you fucking kidding me? I expected you to waste my time by fucking that whore you got down there, not like this. I swear: if shit starts going wrong when I get down there, it is so on you.” Cutting the phone off on her end, the driver grumbled down the stairs as she suddenly felt a desire to punch something…anything would do.
Two minutes was all it took for the figure of Beth to appear in the doorway to the vault, mask taken off because of how uncomfortable the fucking thing was. She looked at the tied up blonde bimbo with a smile, and then turned back to Chris. “Glad to see you had the balls to actually shut her up, fist-o. Now why did you call me do-“
Suddenly, the woman was silenced as she spotted the rather large looking artefact inside the vault: and nothing else. She looked over at Chris with an annoyed look on her face. “So this is what we are after? Seems a pretty fucking bizarre thing to hire us for, not that I’m complaining.” Walking forward, she decides to get a closer look at the artefact, as well as the odd little jewels on the floor. She reached down and picked up a particularly big blue gem: cold to the touch and glowing like a piece of ice.
She held the gem, mesmerized by the glow of the gem as she idly touched the artefact. As soon as her hand connected with the box, something strange happened: a little blue flash and a sudden sensation of cold shooting up her arm had her recoiling in shock, stepping away from the box in a moment of scared terror. During that same moment of terror, the lustre of the blue gem seems to fade a bit, as if empty.
“The fuck?!”
It was just in that moment that a noise scared the living shit out of her: the sound of an alarm buzzer being set off. Someone upstairs must have gotten behind the clerk’s desk and pressed the big red button. “Oh for fuck’s sake. Now we have the fucking 5-0 to deal with, as well. Fucking fantastic: all because you feel the need to show me your box.” She wraps a hand around the edge of the artefact, trying to lift it but finding it just a little too heavy. “Fuck me. Grab that red gem and the box limp dick, we need to go, now.”
I'll be working on getting my posts out today. IRL has been busy and stuff, so I should be using today to do...well...things.
I'm suddenly getting major X-com flashbacks.
I'll be getting a post up tonight. I have work for the next few hours though, so it'll be in like...6 ish hours.
Not the world's longest post, by any stretch, but I thought I'd offer a couple routs to take. Let the bank heist continue!
If it weren't for the mask, Pretty-boy Chris would have seen Beth's mouth hang open in surprise at the sudden nutting-up. Did Fisty-Mcgee really just tell her to 'calm her tits'? In the grand scheme of things, she was perfectly calm: rationally calm, even. She'd shot in the air, she'd made sure the clerk hadn't pressed the police button. Instead, the asshat had decided it was best to act like the good guy or some shit; maybe flirt with the blonde bimbo and bust a nut in her sorry ass?
She grumbled under her breath as she turned to the crowd and started patrolling around, making sure none of the hostages decided to play hero. It wasn't exactly unheard of for a new yorker to have a gun stashed away in his crotch or some shit. "Hope she has the clap, you dumb fuckwit." She called back to Chris, not really caring for the man or his sense of bravado. She wouldn't have to work with him after today, after all: he'd get the goods, she'd lose any heat in the follow-up getaway, and then they'd split the cash and not have to deal with each other any more.
Already bored of the patrolling, Beth decided to open up the security booth and pull the unconscious security officer out of the way so that she could take a seat. Inside was a number of cameras, and she decided to watch Fist-o's progress through the bank: blonde bimbo just in front of him. "What do people even see in a woman like that: fake tits? flat ass? I bet she does the limp fish in bed, too." She grumbles under her breath as she looks around the other cameras, making sure there wasn't any surprises on the way. She was a little shocked that she couldn't see any other security guards yet: and a thought crossed her mind: how come this place didn't have any cameras in the john?
She grumbled under her breath as she turned to the crowd and started patrolling around, making sure none of the hostages decided to play hero. It wasn't exactly unheard of for a new yorker to have a gun stashed away in his crotch or some shit. "Hope she has the clap, you dumb fuckwit." She called back to Chris, not really caring for the man or his sense of bravado. She wouldn't have to work with him after today, after all: he'd get the goods, she'd lose any heat in the follow-up getaway, and then they'd split the cash and not have to deal with each other any more.
Already bored of the patrolling, Beth decided to open up the security booth and pull the unconscious security officer out of the way so that she could take a seat. Inside was a number of cameras, and she decided to watch Fist-o's progress through the bank: blonde bimbo just in front of him. "What do people even see in a woman like that: fake tits? flat ass? I bet she does the limp fish in bed, too." She grumbles under her breath as she looks around the other cameras, making sure there wasn't any surprises on the way. She was a little shocked that she couldn't see any other security guards yet: and a thought crossed her mind: how come this place didn't have any cameras in the john?
I'll be ready to get a post up once Tirge does. It seems mine is the natural point to progress, and all that.
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