NorthernKraken — Roleplayer Guild

@ZAVAZggg@Inertia@MsMorningstar

That Evening
Duncaster City Central, Silver & Steel ‘Smithy

This was nice - the soft warmth from the hearth on her cheek, the heavy blanket resting over her shoulders, the… pounding on the door? 

 Kate blinked, groggy, as she rouse to a state of full consciousness. She’d fallen asleep in the workshop again from the looks of things, curled up on the, somewhat odorous, couch in the office, the edge of the old stone furnace just visible around the edge of the door frame. 

The knocking that had woken her up continued, more insistent with each beat. She’d always been prone to headaches, and the relentless banging was already beginning to draw the familiar tension along her jaw, signifying the beginning of her wanting to curl up in a corner and die. 

Fantastic.

 With a groan, she heaved herself to her feet, pulling the colourful blanket she’d been huddled beneath around her shoulder to guard against the slight chill that crept through the poorly sealed windows and door that didn’t quite fit its frame. As her bare feet made contact with the rough flooring planks, she realised that Master Bertrand must have pulled her shoes off, and he was probably the one who’d draped the blanket over her as well. She smiled, and affection settled in her gut. That man really was too good to her. 

 “All right! I’m on me way!” she yelled, as the knocking still persisted, “gi’s a sec to wake the fuck up!” and then, under her breath, “Wanker.”

 After plodding through the extremely hazardous to bare-feet workshop, she stopped at the door. Peering through the peephole with a furrowed brow, she scowled when she recognised the young woman still slamming her fist against the wood. Megan. She could practically smell the urgency that haunted her friend from here. A brief flare of irritation, quickly followed by guilt. Sure, it wasn’t unusual for her to show up at odd hours with even odder worries and concerns, but Kate doubted it was any more pleasant for Meg than it was for her. 

 With a sigh, she turned the key in the lock, letting the door swing open with a slight creek, “Meg,” she began, a hand on her hip, “The fuck are you doing here at this hour?” her expression was stern, but she hoped her friend would see the concern in her eyes. 

 Meg shifted for a few minutes, eyes darting nervously back and forth, before she swallowed, “Sorry Kate, I know, I know, I told myself I’d stop bothering you, but this is a big deal!” 

 Kate pinched the bridge of her nose. What was she supposed to say to that? ‘oh sorry Meg, but you have a shit track record so calm the hell down and get out of my doorway’? Unlikely. 

 Well aware of how put-upon she probably seemed, she opened the door a little wider and stepped out of the way, allowing her friend to walk through, “Alright,” she said, “you’d better come in.” she gave a small smile, hoping to reassure her, “I’ll warm us up some water, and we can talk it out over a drink, yeah?” 

 Meg nodded quickly, before following Kate through the workshop and into the office where she’d just been napping. 

 Once they’d settled down on opposite ends of the sofa, mugs of steaming hot drinking chocolate warming up their fingers, Kate finally addressed Meg.

 “Right,” she said, settling comfortably with her feet pulled up beneath her, “how’s about you tell me what’s going on?”

Meg, who’d shed the woollen cloak she’d been wearing earlier, but not her leather boots or rigid posture, sipped cautiously at her drink, ”I need to go home for a while,” she let the mug rest in her lap, “I figured that I should probably let you know, didn’t want you worrying.” 

Kate scoffed, jokingly of course, “What’d I be worried about you for?” her brow furrowed as the implications dawned on her, “wait, why? Thought you, and I quote, ‘never wanted to set foot in that fucking place again’? What’s going on Meg?” 

 Meg’s teeth worried at her bottom lip for a second as she stared into the mug on her lap. After a moment she looked back up, eyes suddenly harder, “It’s Llian. I got a letter saying she might be in trouble.” A deep, shuddering breath, “bad trouble, Kate. Supernatural crap.” 

 Kate’s breath caught in her throat, and sympathy welled up in her chest at Meg’s confession. She swallowed, placed her cup down on the floor by the fire, before reaching over and grabbing Meg’s hand. Meg seemed a little surprised, but after a moment, she gripped onto Kate tightly, as if anchoring herself.

 “What can you tell me?” Kate said, voice quiet, undercut only by the crackling fire.

The Next Morning
Duncaster, The Red Hood Keep

 The arrow thunked, hard, into the target some fifty metres away, but Colin didn’t stop to look. Another arrow, tugged from the quiver, strung, shot within seconds. It hit, because of course it did, it was a stationary fucking target.

 Again. 

His muscles burned, sweat soaked into his shirt, chilling the skin beneath uncomfortably in the morning breeze. He stopped, overtly aware of the way exhaustion dragged at his limbs like treacle and his stomach ached with that deep, gnawing emptiness that always came after it stopped growling angrily. He hadn’t slept well last night. Hadn’t been able to stand the thought of the leech just one room over. Stuck with his ‘teammates’, one of whom’d sooner throw him to the wolves, and the other, sweet as she was, more likely to get swatted before she even stood a chance. 

 He could almost hear Andi in the back of his head, having a go at him for not eating more than a stale chunk of bread from his pack and napping in a supply closet, knife in hand, but he didn’t care. She wasn’t there, so what did it matter what she thought? 

He grit his teeth. Reached for another arrow. Faster, he had to be faster. He couldn’t afford to get distracted, or let his increasingly stiff and painful arm hold him back, or whatever. If anything, yesterday had proved that if he wanted to survive, he had to be better. 

 His fingertips met air. 

 He blinked, confused, as his hand groped the inside of the empty quiver, he could’ve sworn he’d had-

 “Gonna have to pay better attention than that, kiddo,” he whipped round to see a woman in a tattered red cloak standing, hip cocked and smirking, with five of his arrows poking out from between her fingers like claws, “Least, if you’re planning on making it to Red.” 

 His knuckles whitened where he gripped Nessy. Heat crowded his face as he struggled to keep his temper in check. Whoever this was, she was a hood, and could probably slaughter him in five seconds flat. Instead, he met her eye coolly, not trusting himself to say anything. 

 After a second of staring him down, she raised an eyebrow and let her arm fall back to her side, “Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, or should I say the closet?”

 Colin felt his eyes go wide as his jaw, quite literally, dropped. His heart raced. How did she know? Had anyone else seen him? Was it really that easy? 

 “Oh calm your tits – no one did anything…” she paused, brow furrowed, “well, that’s not quite true, might want to check in with a mirror sometime soon. But aside from a little artistic expression, everything was fine!” 

 Colin did not think everything was fine. 

  The woman continued, “But that’s beside the point – you’re one of Finlay’s lot, right?”

 Colin nodded hesitantly, not relaxing his grip on his bow.

 “Yeah, well, looks like you’re on loan,” the woman said, “there’s a friend of the hoods in need, and while we can’t really afford to be wasting qualified hoods time on people that can’t afford to pay up, we can send you lot.”

 “Wait, so I’m not with Finlay’s group anymore?” he replied, confused. 

 “Don’t be stupid, ‘course you are. Like I said though, you’re on loan ‘cos nobody was expecting quite so many of you fuckwits to survive the trial.”

 Colin’s heart sunk, so he’d still have to be with the leech and the killer then. Fantastic. 

 The woman gave him a disapproving look, “Jeeze – you’d think I’d just killed your puppy. Perk the hell up kid, you ain’t gonna last long with an attitude like that.” She pursed her lips, “The carriage leaves in an hour from the front gates. Go wash up and grab something from the kitchens before you keel over. We don’t know what you’re gonna be facing, but we do know it’s not gonna be pretty.”

She made to leave, presumably to round up the rest of her unfortunate victims, but then paused, “Oh, right,” she said, “Forgot to introduce myself – the name’s Caira. Try and stick around long enough to need to use it again, huh?” 

And with that, she was gone.

Status: Alive

April Summers

Gender: Female
Age: 28

Height: 5” 3
Weight: 124 pounds 

Citizenship(s): British
Occupation: Molecular Marine Biologist/Representative From the British Antarctic Survey


Background

A born overachiever, April was working her arse off before she even started primary school, driven by a need to escape the council estate in Southampton where she was born, as well as her large, unruly family. She got into university with ease, choosing to study Biology for her undergrad, later specialising in genetics. Her passion for her chosen field and strong work ethic left her graduating with first class honours, and swiftly completing her PHD in the rather obscure field of genome plasticity in intertidal anemones. By the time she was 26, she was working for the British Antarctic Survey as a postdoctoral research assistant. She made a name for herself quickly as a bit of an up and comer, leading to her being recommended for a position at the STAB as a chance to prove herself. With her career riding on how she performs, April is eager to prove that she has what it takes for a serious career in research.


Inventory

-Swiss Army Knife - A parting gift from her dad before she left for university, his way of saying ‘I love you please be safe’.
- Her mobile phone, an old Nokia that’s one bad fall away from disintegrating
- A hot water bottle
- An equally battered hp laptop with all the software she needs to process data from her samples and access to numerous genomic databases
- Disposable camera - her mum’s idea, ‘better than taking a fancy digital one that you’ll drop in the sea!’
- Several home genome sequencing kits she keeps in her room as a backup for the more sophisticated analytical equipment in the lab

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