Sigil

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar & Keystone

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Location: Grimm Indiana (Tinder's Place, exterior front)
Skills: N/A
Skills: N/A

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It sure as hell took long enough, but finally, finally the duo from MSS had made it to the alleged Tinder Place. Now, Keystone was certain to say the alleged Tinder Place because, with GPS that wasn't ideal out this way and the occasional blocked street number, he had assumed that they ad reached the Tinder Place once or twice before, only to be let down by a second, closer look. Nope, this was hands down the alleged Tinder Place until such time as he could personally confirm the address by means of - "Wait! There we've got it, Boss! Postbox an' everythin'. We're 'ere." Oh yes, how smug he felt for the confirmation of location. He knew it all along.

Caesar didn't like the looks of this place. It looked how ghettos felt, hopeless and trapping. The haze settling over everything and the scent of burning might have had something to do with that. It gave a kind of creepy small town feel that can really only be appreciated by outsiders; people like Caesar and Keystone. With those factors at play, the older man might have thought a petting zoo a sinister place. (An evil petting zoo?) And there were two vehicles already out front, a rental car and the universal symbol for "nothing to see here", a cop car. "Don't like it..." he grumbled, staring at the house and and vehicles out front.

"Bloody 'ell's to like, Boss? And when was the last time you liked anything, oi?"

"You made an omelette once." Caesar's eyes didn't leave the scene in front of him, not once.

"You liked that, didja?"

"Mmm hmm. With the smoked fish."

"Means a lot, Boss." It really did. Damn near brought a tear to his eye.

"Caesar, okay? At least in private. Somos Familia, ahora. Father to my grandson. I want you to do something for me..."

"Well yeah, Bo... Caesar. Wha'ever you need." This was beginning to sound serious.

"You have a place. Someone told me. Not in your name, right?"

"Uh huh." Keystone wasn't sure he liked where this was going. "Keepin' it on the mums, though." There was little wonder why, what with super hackers and mystic artifacts in play, along with the uncertainty of the proclivities of people around them.

"No matter what happens after we leave this town, I need you to take my family here. Anyone who can get out needs to get out now. Your baby boy, my Angelita, maybe one or two staff you can trust, if you can trust any of them anymore. Get out. Use our resources. Keep them safe. Eventually, get them to La Casa. Eventually. If you get away from this, protect them. This is your job. Okay?"

Keystone nodded somberly. London it was, with a hefty promotion and a new family in tow. Who knew, maybe they would even be able to do something useful while they were there. And if that didn't work out, he did still know a ton of quiet spots in mainland China. "Absolutely, Caesar. I can do that." Before they could get to that, they had to handle the issue in front of them first. "On the now, hows you want to play this?"

"Keep level to start. Make sure your credentials are easy to reach. And your gun. And your brass. Get me? I don't trust a thing about any of this."

"Right, Boss. Slow an' easy, eyes out for hill folk an' the like." The pair of them exited their vehicle and gave the scene before them a good once-over before walking forward. The first step in an uncertain situation was scoping out the initial scene.

Roll Request

Character name: Caesar Gonzalez
Characters current location: Tinder's Place
Characters attempted actions: Examine vehicles
Any and all skills being used: Seek The Guilty (Investigation/Surveillance), Tracking
Why each skill is being called: To see if there is anything odd that stands out about either of the cars on site, or if they are familiar somehow, anything about the people using said vehicles via tracking
Desired location: N/A

Roll Request

Character name: J. Keystone
Characters current location: Tinder's Place
Characters attempted actions: Scan area before approach
Any and all skills being used: General Observation, Security Procedures
Why each skill is being called: To observe the scene for anything off, and maintain lines of fire and full visibility for himself and Caesar, positioning accordingly to be at the ready and cover
Desired location: N/A

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Vladimir Alexandrov

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Location: Gretna Green
Skills: Fal'shbort (Passive), Tretiy Glaz (Passive), English

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Yes. It was for the best that a holy place be found. With the latest upswing in the Soulless population and the less and less predictable nature of the rules which applied to them, tending to Ludwig's situation was important, perhaps even vital. If that evil wind was a form of Soulless or the extension of a power therefrom, then there was no telling what kind of creature would rise from what was left behind of Ludwig. Perhaps even something stranger and less recognizable than the unholy thing which discorporated him. And even if that was not the fate of the Mad German, he was their staunch ally, if but for a short while. The performance of the Ostanavlivat'sya was a respectful sendoff, and extremely rare in this part of the world. Vladimir would like to think that the odd fellow might look down on the application of it, taking notes even in death.

Though there was no true hesitance in the desire to carry out the wished of the Grand Duchess, there was desire to remain in her presence. The reasoning was two-fold: He had just gotten back to her after an extended period away, his journey's intent to find and assist/protect the Grand Duchess, Lady Crypt, and the Scary Catholic Girl as they completed their own mission involving the marriage. That brought him around to Millicent, the other lady of the hour and central figure of the mission in the first place. There she was, right there, with the grumbling highborn that was acting in a manner most ungentlemanly. Vladimir gave a look laced with harshness in his direction, surely this was part of the mission, wasn't it? No, no there must be something else at play for them to be so close to completing their objective only to be sent away, even for the proper honors of their fallen comrade.

The wishes of the Grand Duchess were the final arbiter of matters such as this, now that she had come of age. Vlad had to trust that she knew what was going on and that his absence, even as temporary as he could make it, would be a greater asset than his presence. The Great Bazhooli eyed the remainder of people in tow of Elizaveta with as much graciousness as he could muster despite his misgivings. "But for of course, my Grand Duchess! For you, I vill make vith the finding of fine, most holy of place for observing ov Ostanavlivat'sya! Am hoping is not much ov delaying. I am off, at the vonce, Your Imperial Grace." Vladimir swept off his fine, tall hat once again, arcing in in front of him whilst effecting a low, reaching bow, and then sprang back up with vigor that contradicted his years. A grin decorating his face amid meticulously styled and oiled facial hair, The Great Bazhooli swung himself into his saddle and, following the dramatic, neighing rear of his great ebon stallion, bid his short-term farewell in the hopes of locating a proper piece of consecrated ground, hopefully with a building dedicated to worship atop it.

Roll Request

Character current location: Gretna Green, Outskirts
Characters attempted actions: Locate Church and/or anything else of note
Any and all skills being used: General Observation
Why each skill is being called: To see what he can find
Desired location of the character: Gretna Green

🦄 Machiavellian Masquerade - Chapter 1

Dr. Swamp

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Location: Shadowell Manor: Attic (Laboratory)
Skills: N/A
Hit Points: 2
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"Ah... Indeed," agreed the Doctor, taking the coat from Amaranthine with a more relaxed, confident expression. Swamp rested his cane against a table for a moment, just long enough to sweep the coat around his shoulders and allow it to settle along his slender frame. Something about his demeanor changed in the moment it took to don the coat; he seemed a little more animated, more boyish somehow. It was interrupted for a second as the pull of his skin reminded him of the stitching in his side (and why it was necessary in the first place), though the moment quickly returned to his face. "Thank you so much, dear Chanteuse. And please forgive me any lapse of professional demeanor. For the first time since setting foot upon these grounds, I feel useful to our situation. This is my wheelhouse, madame. I've a feeling we will take important steps toward solving our quagmire in this very room."

It wasn't exactly the cut of a labcoat that he preferred, but it was functional to his needs and fit him, plus gave an extra layer in combating the relative chill of the room. Next, he set himself to locating other protective garb before seeing to the body of the Lord, seeing as he could not rule out anything that caused his death as of yet. The thought graced his brain that, given the circumstances, the mask he wore into the Manor might actually be an appropriate selection. No, he shook that off for the time being. Fortune favored simplicity in occasions like this. No sense muddying the waters with unneeded sentimentality.

A set of gloves and a pair of sturdy goggles was required, certainly; the safety of one's hands and eyes were of paramount importance for a physician. "Now, if you would please, Chanteuse? I shall require the use of surgical tools: scalpel, bone chisels, mallet, tubal drains, probes, surgical rakes and the like... yes... And a case, satchel, or folding tray with which they may be staged. I did not think my talents in this area would be required for this visit, else I would have brought my own. I see the error in hindsight. A quick look around the room, madame, to see what may be of use? I shall begin the preliminary examination just as soon as we are equipped with contingency in mind. I despise being unprepared." He began a cursory search, leaning against the occasional surface for support as he mentally readied for what was to follow.

🦄 The Paradoxical Emendation - Merged With T.S.

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Gilbert Summers

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Location: Ville au Camp (Outside Gate)
Skills: N/A

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The ripples of time sure changed things from moment to moment, possibly even things which Gilbert had held as solid since the beginning. It was kind of funny, being absolutely certain about how things worked, only to have the building blocks of reality jumbled about in a paint shaker. It occurred to him that the Paradoxes had as good a handle on these things as he had at this point. Hell, they might have decent solo careers, in comparison, at this point. But hey, life was change. Change was inevitable. These things happened. The mention of a spot of tea did strike home with Gilbert; among the chaos of the ever-swirling kaleidoscope of how things were from moment to moment, tea sounded right. Solid. Grounded. Throughout the ages and timelines, it was something of a constant, as if it was as intrinsic to humanity as war, alcohol, or compassion. The more he thought of it as he tromped toward the Gate, the more he could go for a cup. Gil gave a casual, agreeing nod in the direction of Peter. "Yes. Let us see what we can do about that." Tea. Good stuff.

Stepping outside of the grounds proper for the first tie in a very long while, Gilbert took the occasion to look back upon the grounds with fresh eyes. He had seen this exact sight almost innumerable times, but like all things in the ordinary progression of time, the circumstances of that moment would never happen again. He gave a heavy sigh. Having spent more years outside of a temporal loop than within one, this was not going to be an amazingly huge adjustment for him. But it would be an adjustment. He did rather like this loop. It had character. Plus, there were others to take care of than just himself. They would manage, one way or another. They always did. Even with the tenuous grasp on what was that he had picked up from their circumstances.

As he set up just outside of the Gate, Gilbert took the occasion to answer Sophia's broadcast question about the nature of the closing Loop, "You know, Sophia," he began with a casual laugh, "I have absolutely idea whatsoever? Isn't it marvelous?" He stuck his hands into his pockets and leaned back a little, curious to find out for himself.

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James Grady

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Location: Ville au Camp (Outside Gate)
Skills: N/A

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James had little in the way of personal belongings that he didn't carry on him, including now some of the ascended and slightly elder Paradox, Alicia's. She had been his friend. And now he wore a religious icon that he didn't really subscribe to and carried a bottle of something that he really only drank with any gusto because of her. Funny how thing worked out that way, sometimes. We are who we associate with, at least on some level. Days long, long past wouldn't have had those two anywhere near each other. Fate and an undead apocalypse brought them together as friends and allies. It was a lesson that could be applied to the people around him now, as well, even though they didn't quite have the same level of camaraderie. Yet. Looking around at the people most immediately near him, James figured that, given that they were about to leap headlong into the unknown together again, they very well might. James looked over to Andromeda, telling her in soft, deep notes, "Gonna be aight, girl. You wait an' see." He gave a slow nod, tipping the brim of his hat back with his first two fingers in the process.

Looking back at the Destrehan Plantation from the outside, several thoughts went through his head at that time. Though they seemed random, he decided to share them in no particular order. "Y'know, if this place gets eat up by some 'time hole' or anotha, least I can be thankful fo' is that the godawful, goddamned outfit with th' broke-ass rope belt that I showed up here in is goin' away with it. That's a truth I can live with, yessir."

"Ok, ok, hows about this: If'n somethin' bad goes down and th' rest of us Paradoxes're left fendin' for ourselves, I say we go underground, okay? Start us up a... a... yeah, a superhero team! Miss Andromeda, Miss Sophia, what you ladies think on that? Oh, but we gotta get names. Secret identities too, 'cause none of us's born yet. Or jus' identities, period. Hmm, I'm gonna think on that more. Get back to ya."

That thought gave birth to another scenario, "...fuck off, evildoers! Y'all's facin' Mandingo... nah. Nah, hmm... The Tusk! Aight, that sucks a fat'n... Hogwild? Eh. Hog Wilde? Maaaaybe... El Blackneck-o! Naw, that's just racist. I'll get it after a while." He probably wouldn't without help, no matter how many comic books he had been exposed to in his years.

But not everything was entirely self-centric, despite the variable opinion he had of himself. "Hey there, Miss Andy, if we stuck out here when it starts gettin' light again, you wanna borrow my stetson? Keep that sun offa y'face." He shifted it off anyway and offered it over, his head still covered by a tied bandanna.

Maybe he was just talking out of nervousness. It was a first for James, watching a temporal loop collapse right in front of him.

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: Athribis (Underground)
Skills: Fortitude? Dexterity? Britishness?

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DAMN! Damn, damn, and blast it! The fates once again conspired to prevent the Lord Major from exiting the world in a gesture of heroism, once again denied him the opportunity to die with valor! Was he to ever rot in his field command, soaking up decent scotch and reveling in the accomplishments of a younger, brasher man that occasionally stared back at him from the mirror? Why could he not have been riddled with bullets as he did a fly-by against a German or Austrian target, or even before then as he fought valiantly against the colonial Dutch and their native allies in the south of the African Continent? Nary a dirigible explosion to ferry him across the Styx, no; nor could he have been met in single combat with a single bloody duelist worthy of his skill with a long blade. Nor a single aerial combatant that could have possibly bested him in the exploding skies of a proper dogfight! And THIS, this latest insult slapped upon him by whatever powers that be... Reginald could not even jump into a pit in the darkest depths of chicanery that the ancients of this country had to offer modern men and presume to slip this, his mortal coil in a manner befitting an old soldier! It wasn't right! It wasn't fair! It was... It was highly, highly uncomfortable!

That wasn't a metaphor, nor a euphemism. His Leap of Faith caught him with his pants up - way up. An outcropping caught the back of his belt, slipping the waist of his precariously high pants over the rounder part of his belly, allowing gravity to do what gravity does: pull things downward. One could see the ventilated argyle of his neatly manufactured socks stand as muted opposition to the brightness of his eyes, crossed under the suddenness and painful abruptness of his trousers (and what lay beneath) hacksawing their way into parts unmentionable upon the Lord Major, as the man himself expressed his profound dissatisfaction with the ordeal.

"AHHhhhHHHHHaaHHHHHH!!! My Gluteal Crevasse! By JOVE, the monogram on my interior garments is imprinting itself 'pon my colon! Quickly! Lift! Lift, there's a fellow. And/or a madame! Come along, I believe I can barely make out the flavor of the stitching, it's so far be-crammed!"

Roll Request

Character current location: Athribis, Underground
Characters attempted actions: OUT OF HOLE (in more ways than one)
Any and all skills being used: Fortitude? Dexterity? Britishness? Still not sure.
Why each skill is being called: OOOOOOW!
Desired location of the character: OUT OF HOLE

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Haring Reddish

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Location: Benha (Elite Deck, Cabin)
Skills: Investigation/Espionage

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It was difficult to tell if anything was off, amiss, or other; not in the room occupied by the charming by painfully accident-prone Lady Vera Munn. The explanation for this might very well be Reddish's fault, being as he had been quite taken aback by the strange and fantastic goings-on of the party to whom he had been providing escort, Josephine. She had somehow been able to work her (alleged) witchy powers to close an open, bleeding slash across her face and just a handful of moments later throw a kick rivaling a battering ram through a stateroom door. Oh, the Corporal was impressed. A little scared, but highly impressed. Not scared enough to hightail it out of there and locate an exorcist to perform his stock and trade, but definitely enough to keep him interested with riveting fascination. Or to put it differently, if he wasn't on task for the Lord Major, he was going to keep close to the Starlet, provided she not threaten him with her amazing powers of the supernatural. He would hate to have to cry in public.

But definitely, Reddish would have to ask her more formally to be his bodyguard from now on. It made so much more sense.

Perhaps this is what he had been waiting for. Though it didn't happen to him specifically, he did just witness what amounted to a magical event that involved the Fellowship. He was present. It was revealed to him. Reddish had, if informally, crossed the line from bystander to MAN INVOLVED, if that involvement was purely in the periphery for now. It was a step in the right direction.

So far as the question concerning the presence or absence of the American, George, he could only relate what he witnessed. "Oh, no madame! This room was fully uninhabited, save for Your Ladyship, of course, ah... Your Ladyship! Yes. Likewise madame, no one left the room before Miss Clarke obliterated the door with her substantial reserves of," Reddish caught himself looking over the young starlet with something that looked very much like interest, and not of the academic variety, "...physical vigor, hmm." He cleared his throat and over-corrected himself by snapping promptly to attention, exhibiting the duty of his station among women of higher standing. "Please excuse the Corporal for his foray into a less professional demeanor, Lady and Ma'am. I am amazingly happy to see that you are perfectly canny, Lady Munn! I believe that we have business elsewhere on the deck, however, Miss Clarke, though I dare not leave the Lady unattended. Not with ruffians about." Reddish nodded somberly, and turned his attention back toward the open door, just in case.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway

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Location: Quarantine (Conference Room)
Skills: N/A

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The proverbial cat was now out of its equally proverbial burlap enclosure, and Ash was feeling very confident about the future of his Newnan refugees. Of course, the second he officially accepted citizenship within Camp Mexico Beach (contingent upon its offer, of course), he waived what authority he had to call them his Newnan refugees in anything but an informal, friendly basis. It was an odd feeling, knowing that he was going to be signing away personal responsibility for the lives of these people. He had gotten that feeling before, years ago, whenever an assignment was coming to an end. And naturally, part of that final moment had to contain the knowledge that he was leaving that which he was responsible for in capable hands. Otherwise, he would have done them a disservice.

Ash had seen a little of how this place operated. And he knew much about the reputation of the man in charge of this community, having read much about him in textbooks and serving alongside men who had been under his command. Actually meeting the guy showed greater nuance to his personality. There was the smallest lingering piece of doubt, though it was not about the Camp nor the intent of its inhabitants. Ash wondered how many of these people had to struggle to survive in the world, as it was today. Did they have to repel invaders? Had many of them been forced to make hard choices to ensure survival of their group as a whole? True, they had much, arguably more than Newnan had at their disposal at its best, but could they continue after the bones of the previous civilization, the one they had been born into, had been picked clean? In that instance, or any other sweeping paradigm shift, Camp Mexico Beach might just need people like his: New blood that wasn't afraid of hard work and had to survive in the badlands that the rest of the world had become. So long as they weren't doing something stupid or painting themselves as potential enemies.

He could even be wrong about that assumption. There was much he yet needed to know. But his mind was already made up; warts or no, Ash was putting his name on the dotted line. If he could stay here with Thana, contributing to the safety and well-being of this community, he was going to go exactly that. Especially seeing that those he came in with likewise had the opportunity to become part of the Camp.

His attention was still mostly on Thana during this time. Considering the nature of their meeting earlier, this appeared highly subdued. Ash cracked a little smile at the thought. He had his own concerns about everyone else seeing her for the first time in months; emotions may be high and definitely mixed. Snatches of conversation he has picked up gave this reunion a possibility of uncertainty. He was pleased to see that the feel of the room thusfar was gratitude and elation. And though she could obviously handle herself, he yet felt the need to keep a subtle eye on the situation.

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Thalia Carmichael

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Location: Quarantine (Conference Room)
Skills: N/A

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Part Terminator? That dirty, underhanded bitch. How Thalia had missed her. Granted, the arm wasn't ideal but it beat the hell out of having no arm at all. And to be fair, she really didn't have the time yet to get fully used to it. It was a wonderful piece of equipment, though. And from the looks of things, Thana had a bit of reconstructive work done herself. "Oh, you whore!" she exclaimed, mock aghast. "It's fine, but it's really hard to play with myself with this thing. Frigging Zeds, right?" She said it like it was way back Before and she was forced to go with her second choice of automobile from a rental company. Yeah, it sucked, but she was alive and she had a metal fist with which to beat the living daylights out of people who pissed her off.

As for Thana's following comment, Thalia shook her head. "It's not 'cause I'm stubborn, girl." Her voice was deadpan serious, though her eyes showed deliberate intensity, "So much more left to do. Gotta keep moving forward." Okay, maybe it was because she was stubborn. Of all the negative traits that she had, Thalia wasn't going to let herself be defined by "stubborn". Not when there were other, more provocative options to choose from.

Thalia had more to say to the woman. It would have to wait until others got their chance with her. They had another day in Quarantine, she was sure that she could wiggle in some time between now and then. She did give a listen and agree with Thana as she gave Manny her own personal seal of approval. She didn't feel right giving him a salute like her friend did; Thana was actual military. The most that Thalia could claim was independent contractor or company girl. There were similarities in structure and duties, but traditions of the military were such that she didn't feel comfortable emulating them. Though truth be told, she did find out that she would have made a passable Norse shieldmaiden, racial differences notwithstanding. But she had to train hard for that. That mental foray into history aside, Thalia had to agree with Thana. And out loud, too.

"I never said it out loud, Manny, for a couple reasons... if it wasn't for you I'd be dead. Thank yah." She gave a halfhearted laugh, "We're not going to hug about it, either. You stay over there. But you are one hell of a medic in a pinch."

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Hank Wright

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Location: Quarantine (Conference Room)
Skills: N/A

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Hank grabbed up an unattended deck of cards and started thumbing through them. With everything going on that was highly emotionally charged, he felt even more like an outsider than he did a few days ago. Sure, he was a lot more comfortable with the surroundings of Quarantine, but his emotional investment in the people around them all was limited.

Getting to know a lot of these people over the past week was kind of a double edge sword. Hank had a knack for sizing people up, yet his own gruff, steely demeanor kept a lot of people at a distance. Maybe it was influence from his hetero lifemate, a man who was able to push others away with unrivaled skill. But it might be more accurate to say of the people around him that they had formed into different groups of mutual support. Now that they were put into a position where they no longer had to rely on each other for mere survival, they were reorienting themselves based upon less immediate factors. And predictably, if Hank wasn't needed, then he wasn't particularly wanted.

In the end, it usually wound up coming back to he and Wayne anyway. Like Yule Brenner was fond of saying in The Ten Commandments movie (the original '56 version, not that animated crap with the guy from Top Gun; not that Hank didn't find Top Gun to be one hell of a movie too (even if it was about navy pilots which he could take or leave) but it was no Ten Commandments was all he was saying, though by now he had horribly mentally digressed at this point in time) ...ahem... Like Yule Brenner/Ramses II was fond of saying, "So let it be written, so let it be done." From the look of how things were progressing in Quarantine, the people they seemed to be getting along with best were from CMB anyway. Panama was an asshole but so were they, and Gunny revealed as much about himself as Hank did through some manner of mysterious asshole telepathy, which was hard to explain but fun to describe. Maybe the Captain. Jury was still out about that guy, even though he could launch a solid brood like it was an Olympic sport.

But speaking of the perpetually smacked around Army guy - Hank settled back down into the recliner next to Wayne's just as he was calling the guy a lucky bastard, still shuffling about the deck of cards. "Aw hell, Maldonado. At least someone's getting some action, and for crap's sake that guy looked like he needed it." A thought gave him reason for a quick subject change, "Hey, d'ya think we could ask these guys to live on a fishing boat?" He shrugged, considering the possibilities.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar & Keystone

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Location: Grimm Indiana (Heading Towards Tinder's Place)
Skills: N/A
Skills: N/A

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The difficulty with participating in an investigation was that, no matter how skilled an investigator one might be, nor how sharp one's eyes might be, nor even how amazing one's deductive reasoning might be, it made absolutely no matter in the slightest if the hypothetical Master Investigator couldn't get to the place the needed to investigate. Such it was with our intrepid, often anti-heroic protagonists, Caesar and Keystone. Perhaps the two got a little confused with the directions as they sat in their perspective seats, wondering about the odd nature of how they both tended to go by one name only; Caesar by his first without need to move along to his surname unless paperwork was in order, and Keystone almost exclusively by his last despite having the perfectly serviceable first name of Johnathon. Then again, he never really felt like a John. But that was beside the initial point, that being that they had only the vaguest idea as to where they might have turned up on the roads of Grimm, Indiana.

The good news was that, it being a smaller town, there were only a couple of main roads from which everything branched. Locating the proper address was inevitable, especially with the proper information at their disposal. The bad news was that their electronics were not quite as reliable in this place as they might have been in Chicago. Or any place between there and Chicago. It wasn't that huge of a leap for Caesar to make, seeing as more of his professional years were spent before the technological revolution of the 1990s than after it, and Keystone, well... for a confirmed urbanite, he really didn't give much of a rat's hindquarters about the sudden loss of wholly reliable GPS, being as he didn't really get to use any of the good, expensive stuff until he grew up a little. Of course, being in the more rural-ish parts of a strange country (and YES, this is a strange country to people who spent most of their life on the other side of an ocean), it still irked him not to have a clear technological advantage.

No matter. Getting turned around in an environment like this was inevitable, as was getting back on track. Even if it was a simple matter of "No, not this street, this street". Once more firmly back on what they assumed was track, the mood elevated within the SUV. Not much, mind you, and it was not as if they were having a big party in the SUV in the first place, but every little bit helped in circumstances like this. Keeping to the tradition of both men grunting or growling during times of mild annoyance, it could be fairly said that such things lessened a bit once they laid eyes on new scenery.

Strangely enough, part of that new scenery was the hauntingly lonely sight of a single balloon, listlessly being pushed in the wind yet unable to really go anywhere due to being caught in a tree. It just hung there, powerless to do anything about its circumstance, at the mercy of the elements around it. Considering the generally pleasant weather, it might have actually been there a while. Might. And this pleasantness of course did not account for the huge plume of smoke in the distance, coupled with a resulting haze that gave the town of Grimm a rather ominous feel; the discarded floaty balloon did not assist in that matter in the least. However, viewing the whole picture as optimistically, they were back on track. They thought. Time would tell - hopefully it would tell soon. That much testosterone in an enclosed vehicle was potentially bad for one's health.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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Vladimir Alexandrov

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Location: Gretna Green
Skills: Fal'shbort (Passive), Tretiy Glaz (Passive), English

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Vladimir swung himself from his saddle with flair and the barest hint of shininess, landing deftly upon his sturdy yet flexible boots. He walked a step or two over toward Elizaveta, arms outstretched to sweep her up into a big bear hug. Yet this was not to be the usual sort of meeting between people that, while of differing social strata, held to each other with taut familiarity. And no small amount of native color in common. No, the Grand Duchess had a very real concern that needed to be voiced and dealt with. Then they might make with the hugging and the drinking and the very amiable observances of nostalgia that made them truly of one people. Then of course, the actual reason that they were there. There was an order to these things. All in good time.

"I am not knowing, Grand Duchess!" admitted The Great Bazhooli with some dramatized dismay. "I cannot speak to exactness of vhat makes for Soulless in country ve stand on anymore. Things ve have seen... ah, but vas not from natural. Angry dark vind tears through and does damage within instant! Poor Master Zimmer, friend and ally, has fallen to treachery and and foulness of dark vind. But... But! Could not stop him from showing us paths for to get to you, my Grand Duchess. He dies hero. Soulless killing him? I do not know. I vould not take chance. Vhat are you thinking, Constantin Firevalker?"

Vladimir had a lot to say right then. Much needed to be processed and reported upon, but the urgent and secretive nature of their primary reason for being there prompted a little subtlety, such as The Great Bazhooli, in any incarnation throughout the ages, could hold any claim upon direct subtlety. "Безопасно ли говорить перед этими людьми, Елизавета?"

Translations

1 = Is it safe to speak in front of these people, Elizaveta?

🦄 Machiavellian Masquerade - Chapter 1

Dr. Swamp

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Location: Shadowell Manor: State Dining Room (3F) -> Attic (Laboratory)
Skills: N/A
Hit Points: 2
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The absolute and self-righteous delusions of importance of the masses of mewling and squirming "guests", verbally assassinating his character before having so much as three words with him. Most of them not even one. It would have been a pitiable thing, really, except that cast blame in a confined space often led to real danger. People trapped together might not elect a leader from among themselves, but throw any sort of stress into the mix and they would work hard to find someone to hate. Otherwise, the Doctor would have been much happier walking away from this whole, disgusting affair, blackmail or no. There might have been other opportunities. Walnut's story certainly seemed to agitate matters, despite the report of witnesses. Well, speak a story enough times and someone was sure to be influenced by it, regardless of external contradiction.

Swamp was eager to have this chapter of his life over and done with so that he could return to his work, far, far away from these people. His presentmost regret, however, was that he did not have the time to tell these people what he thought of their self-serving and poisonous vitriol, aimed at the one person who was actually trying to do something about their shared situation - that would be the good Doctor - before the task was taken care of for him by the Lady Oriold.

Rock the boat he would not. Not right now, of course. There was a mystery that he was uniquely qualified to investigate. His personal feelings would have to be set aside, and besides that it would feel centering to get back to his chosen occupation. Once they reached the Laboratory, Swamp allowed himself a moment to take everything in. This was more than he required for a simple postmortem examination. Much more. Whatever went on in this room, specifically, he could not help but wonder. "Thank you, Quinton. I shall do my best for your Lord. First, we must familiarize ourselves with the work area." He looked to Amaranthine, "Madame, you look cold. Perhaps we might find a lab coat or something suitable, if you would prefer it?"

🦄 The Paradoxical Emendation - Merged With T.S.

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Gilbert Summers

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Location: Ville au Camp (Swamp - Walking toward Exit)
Skills: N/A

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Gilbert could have facepalmed at the sheer, blanket idiocy that he had been displaying for all of this time. Of course they had a procedure for this. He wondered exactly how it got in his head in the first place that this was a wholly unprecedented event. If procedure existed, then this must have happened before, and the circumstances that led up to the last few times were rapidly gathering right then. It stood to reason that this might have been something they should have drilled over the course of the past year and a half with the new Paradoxes, and as such they might have a decent grasp on what was necessary as well. Gilbert would just have to trust that they knew what to do from their individual standpoints.

Gathering his wits about him, Gil merely turned and spoke to all still present who were not acting according to procedure, "It is time. I understand that much has happened to account for piqued interest, but it is of the utmost of importance for us all to exit the grounds in an orderly fashion. The clearest signpost that designates this is the gate at the main entrance. If the date clicks over to the first without other mishap, perhaps we might be able to salvage what we may from the grounds afterward. If not, I am The Hat. I can provide. Please, let us move." Gilbert looked back to Peter, "I apologize that your welcome back is so understated. We all have questions. But please, we should ask them of each other after this is handled."

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James Grady

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Location: Ville au Camp (Swamp -> Walking toward Exit)
Skills: N/A

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James looked at everyone around him blankly, as if he had no idea what was going on nor what might happen next. He gave a sort of half-hearted smile to Peter, the Paradox that he never got to meet personally while he was alive. British fella. Cultured accent. And he didn't wish to delve into a man's personal tequila. He seemed like a stand-up sort of man, for someone who just came back from the dead for the second time. "Aight, suit y'self," he said, lowering the bottle. "Offer's still there in case you change that mind though, 'k?" he added before turning around, heeding the words of the taller Emendator. It seemed that no one knew anything that was going on right then except for the pale Siduri, and now she was the one calling all the shots. Overtly, as the Emendators all deferred to her, it seemed like the thing to do, but deep in James's head something about all this still seemed off. He couldn't quite place why, though.

On his way toward the Gates, he came across Andromeda, Sophia, and Giosue. The Watch seemed to be concentrating on something potentially important (James could only assume it had to do with the Loop, though it might be a decent enough guess considering the present emergency) so he instead spoke to the women present. Starting with Sophia, "Dunno if'n everythang's gonna be alright once we get off the grounds, but that's what we gotta do now. Hell, it'll probably be both hunky and dory. These folks know what they're doin'." At least, James really hoped that they did.

Addressing Andromeda's question, "That really white lady did somethin'. Says it's only temporary, so I don't know what happens after or when after is... it's all voodoo to me, girl." He extended a hand to the alabaster haired Paradox, saying in notes he hoped were comforting, "C'mon, they got this. Let's get gone." He pointed in the general direction of the main Gate. "Figure it out when we out there."