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    1. mnkee 8 yrs ago

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Location: Walls of London --> St. Albans



Fyror stared out the carriage window, watching as their surroundings progressively changed as they left the inner city of London behind. His thoughts deviated from his father's words of warning to the more important matter at hand. His already harsh features hardened as he thought about the grim situation that Millicent had found herself in. He was washed in tension and a fieriness came to his eyes at the mere thought of Lord Rutherford defiling her. He swore that he would not let that wretched man get away with this. Justice would be served, but the question was that would it be before or after Millicent lost her life.

Gerard's mind still wandered with worry although this time he was looking calmer than before. It just gets numbing at some point. In his mind he traced the roads, towns they will pass before they reach Nottingham, and after that. He kept recalling the events since yesterday, hoping that there could be any information, anything he might have missed at all that could prove helpful to their current mission. Would not really matter if it gave away anything useful, at least it gave him some bit of hope. And the more he did, his worry was slowly being replaced by vengeance. A woman like Millie doesn't deserve this kind of wickedness.

Fryor pulled his attention back to the present. His gaze left the window, and he glanced over at Gerard before turning to rummage through his stuff. The irishman caught his glance, he too could see in his eyes the intensity. Fryor pulled out a map and deftly unfolded it. His eyes looked it over, and then he traced the path of the Great North Road with his finger. He shook his head. "Dammit. This route is going to send us too far east, and it will completely bypass Nottingham. Not that we would have any luck cutting them off at his home there. They're too far ahead of us. There has to be a quicker route," he exclaimed in frustration.

The other man leaned just a little bit across the other seat, and took a look at the map. It was a little longer to process what he was seeing, carefully reading the words as best he can. His eyes first caught the words London, Nottingham where they were suppose to be headed after St. Albans a fair league towards Gretna green. Gerard agreed with him, at this point where they may already be too far ahead of them the Great North Road may not be the best route to take.

"We could go through heres." eyeing the route from the eastern side, he pointed the road that was bound for Manchester with some bit of uncertainty. "Right after St Alban's. We could go pass Nottingham, and go forward towards M-." slightly tilting his head, he peered for some short seconds at the tiny words written on the map " Manchester. I reckon we'll be quicker this way." he said. Going back to his position he looked over attentively to Fryor, "What do you think sir?"

Fyror's gaze followed to the area Gerard pointed out on the map. It was a Stage Coach Route that broke off of the Great North Road and headed straight for Manchester, completely bypassing Nottingham. After comparing the two routes, he came to the conclusion that it should very well buy them some time. "That should work splendidly, Mr. Connolly. It will certainly buy us some precious time. I will redirect our coach driver when we stop in St. Alban's to change horses," he replied. He was pleased that things were looking up slightly.

The rest of the journey was exchanged with little words, and fortunately the short travel toward's St. Alban's with no problem. As they neared the town Gerard still kept his eyes on the window, observing the scenery surrounding the small city. Soon enough their carriage came to stop at a Stage Coach Post in St. Alban's.
>When you see a man that resembles a FC and thus a character in one of your RPs
Yesterday, while at the state fair, I saw a guy that looked quite a bit like Colin O'Donoghue. I did a double take, and then I swear the first thought that crossed my mind was "It's Édouard!!" It was a bittersweet moment, and by bittersweet I mean one part amazing and one part cringe worthy. XD





Location: The Strand (Nuetermyre's --> The Glimmeric)




- "Battle for the Hill of the Ash" by Trevor Morris of the Vikings Soundtrack




Thalken gladly left behind the rubbish that was Nuetermyre's and retraced his steps back to where the body had been found. Unlike Michael, he was not in any rush to tend to the body, as he knew well enough that there was a 72 hour timeframe before the body would rise again as a Soulless, if it even did at all. Ultimately, it all depended upon whether the attacking Ryne had drank the man dry or had broken off the feeding soon enough to pass on the illness. Only time would tell. Well, in the meantime, he would continue to investigate these strange killings.

He stopped at the junction of the alleyway where the body had rested. His dark eyed gaze took in the area. It would seem that remnants of its mere existence had been erased and with it any clues as to what had killed the lord. He let out an annoyed sigh. Piecing together this puzzle was proving harder than he had anticipated, but that did not mean he was going to stop now. No, he was determined to see this through.

He turned away from the alleyway. There was nothing of substance to be had there anymore. People's quickness to clean up the scene of the crime had seen to that. His gaze landed on the Glimmeric located just across the street. His father often used the brothel as a meeting place for his nefarious dealings. His head tilted slightly to the side as he noticed a young woman in the window staring out in his direction, the direction where the body had been found.

Thalken suddenly recalled hearing that one of Frances Warwick's girls had found the body. Perhaps it was even the young woman in the window. It occurred to him that she may have seen something of note before coming across the body. He decided then and there that he must speak with the woman. He strode across the street towards the Glimmeric with a look of stubborn determination on his face.




Roleplays:
Darke Magyk










Location: Outside Twelve Daggers Tavern – Port of Tortuga



- "Horns" by Bryce Fox



The bits and pieces of humanity, of the real Alisanne, that Edgard saw in her was simultaneously confusing and reassuring. One minute she seemed genuine and the next it was like she wasn't even there. He did not quite know what to think. Was she real, or was she an illusion? Or was she somehow a little bit of both? In the end, all he could really do was revel in the glimpses of reality while they lasted.

Her smile brought a smirk to his features and a glint to his stormy blue eyes. And that wink, man, it about did him over. His smirk turned into an amused yet affectionate smile. He always loved it when that cold exterior of hers broke away, even for a mere moment, to reveal a more genuine and open side of her. But of course, much like himself, the playfulness was short lived, quickly returning to professionalism.

"Surely collecting the flask can wait until I ensure your safety and kill those responsible for your disappearance. After all, what use will the power of the flask be to La Fraternité du Sang if there is no heir to wield it?" he replied, his brows furrowing slightly. He softly rubbed the back of his hand against her cheek. "Whatever the case, I must find a new crew. Perhaps I can take over whatever ship Miss Blackwood came on," he added. A devious smirk came to his features at the notion.







Location: Docks near the Bellona (Port of Tortuga) --> Next to a shipwreck (Devil's Triangle)


- "Broken Crown" by Sharm



Sirena felt her soul and sanity being chipped away with every swallow of the red, coppery substance. The blood of men was slowly and agonizingly killing her from the inside out. She recognized her new self, this new reality, as little as Harlianne recognized her own best friend. She had hoped that consuming that which she hungered for would satiate the blood thirst, but oh how wrong she was. A strangled wail that was out of part frustration and part despair left her blood covered mouth. Unfortunately, her cries seemed to fall on deaf ears, as fate was busy turning two friends against each other.

Her head whipped to the side at Harlianne's outburst. Her breaths came in and out sharply, and she could now hear the pounding beats of her heart in her ears. Her blue eyes widened, and then for moment everything seemed to go in slow motion. Harlianne struck out with her cutlass, no doubt going for a deathblow. Fortunately for Sirena, instincts and adrenaline kicked in, and she ducked out of the way of the blade in the nick of time. She quite literally narrowly saved her own neck.

She wasted little time, jumping to her feet as soon as the blade had passed overhead. She landed unsteadily on her feet, grimacing as she strained her ankle slightly in the process. She then put an extra four feet of distance between her and Harlianne. "I don't want to fight you," she spoke up, her voice raw with emotion. She could feel the hunger pulsing through her stronger than ever before. It weighed down on her like an anchor on a ship. She realized then that she could not live like this forevermore.

"I can't live like this. I can't risk hurting those I care about. If you wish to kill me, then kill me." she stated definitively. There was an air of strength returning to her features. Perhaps there was honor and courage to be found in choosing your own fate. "Just don't blame yourself for this. Remember that it was my choice," she added with sincerity. The fear that had been in her eyes just moments before seemed to fade away as she slowly approached Harlianne. She wasn't afraid of death. No, she was more afraid of life.

Had Harlianne remembered Sirena, there would have been hesitation. She likely would have stopped and told her first mate that everything would be fine--that she'd find a way to live with her condition. Pirates got drunk on booze--blood wouldn't be that strange at the end of the day. They'd grow accustomed to it. But the mist still clouded her eyes, her memories kept away from her. Perhaps it had been something Luisa had done or perhaps it had been something waiting to come into being.

"Why blame myself for a good deed, eh?" Harlianne asked. With a smooth and elegant motion, Harlianne darted forward and drove her blade at the defenseless Sirena, aiming for her neck. The blade hit its target, cutting through Sirena's flesh cleanly like a scalpel. For a moment, Sirena's head remained on her body as blood began to rush out, yet as Harlianne withdrew her blade, the head toppled to the ground. Sirena's body collapsed what seemed to be exactly a second later. The grey mist still covered Harlianne's eyes as she looked down at the corpse of her friend, entirely unaware of the gravity of what had just happened.

It all happened so fast. Sirena had barely taken one last breath of the fresh air of this world when pain exploded through her. The air was forced out of her lungs as pain exploded through her, and then, there was nothing. Darkness had engulfed her, and her life quickly drained from her with every drop of blood that poured from her severed neck. She was dead now, and the only consolations were that she had died on her own terms and was subsequently freed from the burden of blood thirst. But it would seem that the journey was only just beginning for her.

Sirena's eyes opened again, this time to find herself underwater with a massive shipwreck before her. Memories were slowly coming back to her, and it dawned on her that she was in fact dead. While others would feel burdened by the knowledge, she felt a freedom like none other. That characteristic smirk once more graced her features. She was ready for the adventures that laid ahead.












Location: Westminster Hospital (London) --> St. Albans



Gerard didn't even have a chance to speak when Fryor already turned on his heel and went on his way. Indeed there was no time to spare, as he himself jogged towards the entrance and to the Wyndham's parked carriage ride. By the time he had met with the doorman who was watching over the Wyndham's ride, Fyror could be seen mounting his trusty steed Valor and promptly galloping off. A trail of dust followed the officer, and his red coat grew smaller and smaller before eventually disappearing from view altogether. "I will return shortly" Gerard said to the doorman, wasting no time to pause and talk and briskly unbuckled one of the horses. There was no use in bringing with him the carriage, it would only slow him down plus it's much easier to navigate through the roads without all that extra burden. And he wouldn't want the two women left in the hospital have their only ride home be stolen, Gerard isn't that vindictive.

Despite the narrow streets of London Gerard managed to slip through in such haste, that at one point he almost failed to notice a man that he almost ran over in the process. All he could discern was his angry curses but in his remorse, Gerard could only give him a mental apology. Meanwhile, Fyror similarly rode hard and fast. He made quick work of traveling through the sparsely occupied Green Park & St. James Park on horseback. He was heading for the inn that his family and fellow officers were staying at, which was conveniently located adjacent Hyde Park. He certainly hoped his father Colonel Theodore was still there, as he couldn't afford to lose any time, not with Millicent's life on the line.

Fyror slowed down his horse as the inn came into view. He quickly dismounted as soon as Valor came to a halt in front of the inn. He handed the reins over to the first servant who approached him. Under normal circumstances, he would be perfectly fine untacking and brushing down his own horse, but right now time was of the essence. He had to make every minute count. "I will need my horse tended to, but first I need one of the coaches from Colchester Garrison prepped and ready for several days of travel. Please do it as quickly as possible. Time is of the essence," he explained, before hastily entering the inn in search of his father.

It wasn't long until Gerard was back at Wyndham manor, stepping down from his ride and pacing directly towards the stables, also his part time home to get all the necessary things he would need for the journey. He would not leave without his sword and shield, some change of clothes and enough coin and food to last the journey. Next he headed towards the kitchen to notify Cook and the rest on his current mission.

"I'll bring our Millie home. I promise." He said in determination and confidence. Everyone hoped that she would and he wouldn't want to fail all of them, Gerard would never forgive himself otherwise. A sad whimper came from Wendy, kneeling down he gave her an affectionate hug. "I wont take long. Watch over them for me, yeah?" After getting all that he needed and saying his goodbyes, he left not time to spare on anything else and returned to Westminister where he would rendezvous with Fryor. Truthfully there is some slight unease in his part thinking that he will be traveling with him, but it would be wrong to judge him unfairly. Although that adds to the reason why he is nervous in the first place, but more so on the fact that he's travelling with an army man.

Fyror quickly located the stairwell from the lobby, and then he ascended the steps practically two at a time up to the third floor where his family was staying. He immediately knocked on his parents' door and waited rather impatiently for a response. The door was soon answered by his mother Lilith. "I need to speak with father," he blurted out before she could barely say a word. In his urgency, his manners were a bit lacking. He looked past his mother as she stepped to the side, and he let out a sigh of relief when his gaze landed on his father. "Oh thank goodness you're here. The life of Millicent Wyndham is in certain peril at the hands a Lord Rutherford. I must travel to Gretna Green immediately," he explained. "Will taking the main roads suffice, or is there a quicker route?"

He gestured for his father to follow him as he headed towards his own room to hastily gather his things. Fortunately, a large portion of his stuff was still packed up, seeing as his family had only been in town for a few days. "The Great North Road is as straight shot a route as they come. It would make the most sense for you to use that route," Colonel Theodore replied. "Are you sure about this? It is a long journey. Why don't I at least send some of the officers along with you. You shouldn't do this alone."

"I am doing this, father, and I am not doing this alone. The Wyndham family's stable hand Gerard is joining me. Adding more people will just slow us down. Besides, more than one person in uniform could potentially set Lord Rutherford off. No, the two of us can handle this," Fyror explained. He was so focused on rapidly gathering and packing his stuff that it took a few moments before he realized that the room had gone eerily quiet. He paused what he was doing to look up at his father. Colonel Theodore oddly seemed lost in thought all of a sudden. "Father?" Fyror interjected, his brows furrowing.

"Who is this man? What is his full name?" Theodore inquired.

"Gerard Connolly. Why do you wish to know?" Fyror stated, his brows furrowing further as he tried to interpret his father's expression. "Do you know the man?"

"I knew him, a long time ago. I wondered what had become of him, if he had fallen back onto old habits," Theodore stated with a sigh. "Just watch your back. I hope to goodness the man has changed for the better, but I won't stake my life, or yours for that matter, on it."

Fyror nodded his head slowly in understanding. He finished packing his last few things before shouldering it and facing his father once more. "I'll be careful. I promise," he stated. His father nodded his head, and without another word they made to leave the room. Fyror's eyes landed on his musket just as they were about to step out of the room. He hesitated for a moment, before ultimately deciding to grab it. He then left the room, said his goodbyes, and then located his now fully stocked coach. Soon thereafter he was leaving the inn behind and headed back to Westminster Hospital to meet up again with Gerard.

Gerard arrived back at the hospital, now fully prepared for the spur-of-the-moment journey to save Millicent. Gerard tied the the horse back to it's carriage, giving it a few soft pats on it's smooth dark neck. Once he meets up with Fryor they should be off, and he hopes to God that they would not arrive late to save her.

Since yesterday everything has been too much to make process of. Since that woman at the park, and specially Millie coming home from the night at Almacks, and now traveling almost half of Britain to save her from marrying an entitled and terrible man. But that's not the only thing that worries him, with the news of the attacks that evening, and the possibility of the soulless running amok in the streets could add some danger to their current objective. With that in mind he would make sure to still tread carefully, even with a companion at his side there's no guarantee of assurance.

Shortly thereafter, the garrison's coach came to a stop in front of Westminster Hospital. Fyror opened up the coach door, and his gaze sought out the man that would be accompanying him. "Hop in, Mr. Connolly. We have little time to waste," he called out when his eyes landed on Gerard. Once the man had climbed aboard the coach, Fyror closed the door behind him and then they were off.

"We are taking the Great North Road straight to Gretna Green. It is the quickest and most straight shot route," he explained before the room fell silent. He then left Gerard to his thoughts and himself to his own. He looked out the window, watching as the surroundings changed as the headed for Westminster Bridge, the sole entrance into London. Colonel Theodore's words of warning still rang clear in his head. He wondered what kind of man Gerard had once been and more importantly the kind of man he was today.

Gerard was mostly quiet all throughout the travel. He hasn't always been the first to engage in small talk, specially now that he's feeling quite uneasy and guarded. But mainly, his mind just contemplates on the the recent events as they passed over the Westminister bridge, circling around the walls of London. He wished the only time he would see it is when they're all bound home to the countryside, fully setting aside any businesses they have here but instead he is traveling with man, not just any man in uniform and who he barely knew. Internally, it's poking him how he shared a relationship with Millie, or most importantly of what kind. But so far since they met, Fryor seemed to leave an amiable impression to Gerard, something he wasnt entirely expecting. For how long they will be traveling together and sharing a similar objective, there could be time to learn more about the person he is working with, if only to make him rest easy.




Location: The Strand (Nuetermyre's)




- "I'll Be Good" by Jaymes Young




"God dammit," Thalken cursed under his breath when Michael uncovered two puncture wounds on the dead man's neck. How in the hell did he miss that?! He scowled down at the body, as if that would remedy the situation. That dark intensity that was all too common with him was once more overtaking his features. And yet, despite the fact that his demeanor would suggest otherwise, the gears were turning in his head. Perhaps he did his best problem solving when he was brooding. Who knows.

His mind went back to the bodies on the docks. He remembered how their precise layout had led him to the exact location of the last remaining body. The odd thing was that unlike this body, the cause of death of the bodies at the docks did not appear to be of Soulless origin. Unless of course he missed some blatant clue like he did here. "God dammit," he exclaimed louder this time. He let out an annoyed huff.

He stiffly turned to face Michael as the man said something in passing. Unlike the man, Thalken was not so much bothered by the amount of deaths. After all, he was no stranger to tragedy. Honestly, it would have bothered him more if the people had been killed by the Talinks, namely his father, rather than Soulless. His family already have too much blood on their hands. The Soulless on the other hand were surely just getting started. No, what bothered him was that he couldn't figure this damn puzzle out.

He pursed his lips in thought at Michael's last comment. Where would the Soulless hide? "Abandoned buildings," he stated simply. Without another word, he tossed the handkerchief back over to Michael and then strode out of the room.
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