Damycles
BayRatWell, I mean you took one from the best chapter of the best book one of the world's most beloved authors wrote.
Doesn't quite take a google search for that one.
Doesn't quite take a google search for that one.
Snagglepuss89
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I'm still up for it, might be slow because people are with family for Easter.
Ron is Jesus, this RP is going to flip halfway through into the second coming and the apocalypse.
A brief swelling of pride filled Augustus, annoyed at the thought of someone else taking charge of the situation, but he let it subside. Above all else, he was logical. If he were playing the part of a minor noble, there wasn't much use in trying to take charge like a crown prince. The risk to his life was far to great at the moment to let something as silly as pride rule his actions. Besides...
He looked over the Cold One and the woman-knight once more. Sure, Augustus had received the best training available in the kingdom and had no fear of facing an armed opponent, but those two at least appeared to have seen plenty of actual combat. It would probably be wisest, given the current situation. As much as he loathed to admit it, Keisser had always been the one suited for leading the army. Augusted lacked his... natural talent for it.
"Agreed. The longer we linger the longer we're going to be stuck... Wherever it is we are. I don't know about the rest of you, but that doesn't feel safe."
There did seem to be a certain malice in the air, or perhaps in the walls. Whatever the reason they had been gathered here he suspected it wasn't a pleasant one. Especially considering the fact that they were all armed. Just what was their purpose here?
With no answers forthcoming he shrugged, falling into line behind the Cold One. It didn't look like there were many "healers" to pair up with, so he instead went with one of the warriors. He may not be able to patch up the man's wounds, but he could pick off a weakened attacker before they could get a strike in. In theory. Aside from that, despite being as standoffish as the warrior was, he was the only one that had gained any trust from Augustus. The cold logic was something he could understand.
If his trust was misplaced, it would only mean his death. Right?
He looked over the Cold One and the woman-knight once more. Sure, Augustus had received the best training available in the kingdom and had no fear of facing an armed opponent, but those two at least appeared to have seen plenty of actual combat. It would probably be wisest, given the current situation. As much as he loathed to admit it, Keisser had always been the one suited for leading the army. Augusted lacked his... natural talent for it.
"Agreed. The longer we linger the longer we're going to be stuck... Wherever it is we are. I don't know about the rest of you, but that doesn't feel safe."
There did seem to be a certain malice in the air, or perhaps in the walls. Whatever the reason they had been gathered here he suspected it wasn't a pleasant one. Especially considering the fact that they were all armed. Just what was their purpose here?
With no answers forthcoming he shrugged, falling into line behind the Cold One. It didn't look like there were many "healers" to pair up with, so he instead went with one of the warriors. He may not be able to patch up the man's wounds, but he could pick off a weakened attacker before they could get a strike in. In theory. Aside from that, despite being as standoffish as the warrior was, he was the only one that had gained any trust from Augustus. The cold logic was something he could understand.
If his trust was misplaced, it would only mean his death. Right?
Rolling dice and statting the first encounter woo.
Should I hold off then?
No worries, my post will be up tonight.
It was the song she was written to, I figure I had to include it in her intro.
It fits her so well.
It fits her so well.
Catherine has made her debut.
Dead-eyed dreary tired students packed the halls of the highschool, as they did every morning. Some sleep deprived, some depressed, some just succumbing to a catatonic state hoping to escape the horrors of their teenage existence, the horrors of the place they found themselves in now. After all, who could muster the energy for cheer so early in the morning?
Who indeed.
Almost by reflex, the crowd of students parted, clearing a pathway for the figure making her way down the hall. She was a juxtaposition of modern and historic, draped in a deep purple garb resembling a toga emblazoned with the letters SPQR across the front and back. Perhaps any normal person who donned such a garb would wear it with dignity and respect.
But no.
She danced her way down the hall with jerking motions, in a clearly half-assed attempt at doing the Robot. Earbuds blissfully concealed whatever music she was listening to as she made her way through the school, but unfortunately for the poor students she made sure everyone around knew the words to her song.
"I've got a secret! I've been hiding! Under my skin!"
Perhaps her voice would be pleasant if she weren't trying to imitate a man from Chicago. As it was, students all around her covered their ears and groaned, too used to the spectacle to feel any actual shame for her. She ignored them, hooped earrings dangling every which way as she sang and danced towards her classroom. It was located towards the back of the school, up a small flight of stairs. As the woman reached the top of these she turned around, facing the hall of students head on. Ripping out one of the earbuds she screamed to them:
"DOMO ARIGATO MR. ROBOTO! DOMO!"
She cupped one of her hands around her free ear, clearly expecting a call and response. Instead she received a couple half-hearted 'domo's from the crowd, with the rest simply scowling at her in annoyance. She stuck her tongue out at them before clicking her heels and walking the last couple feet to her room.
Once she was in the safety of the classroom, she ripped out her earbuds and shoved them, along with her phone, into her desk. Today was a bad day. Not for her, but for the lovable little shitheads who decided to blow off her lessons and fail yesterday's test. A test she warned them would be hard. That she warned them to take the study guide seriously for. They were discussing Rome for heaven's sake! It didn't exactly have the smallest impact on human history. She flipped through the papers stacked on her desk one more time, memorizing the grades, until the bell rang.
As the students filed into the room one by one, she stood there, like the eye of a raging hurricane. In front of her was something that resembled a dart board, with sections labeled A-F. Beside her, on her desk, rested a box, filled with darts. Perfectly normal in design, except for one feature: On the back was taped the face of a student. As soon as a face appeared in her doorway she let a dart fly, with increasing aggression as it became evident that the class was screwed.
thunk. F.
Thunk. F.
THunk. F.
THUnk. F.
THUNk. D.
THUNK. F.
THUNK. F.
It was a complete 180 from her personality in the hallway. Sure, the underlying insanity remained, but the carefree attitude had given away to the cold exterior of an executioner. By the time the darts had run out, only three stood out from the clump of D's and F's . Blake Warren was one of the few. Slowly, she made her way over to her desk, and simply stared at her students, eyes moving from one end of the room to the other, until they all had been seated. Finally, she spoke, almost in a whisper:
"Rome is important. Perhaps I didn't make this clear enough the past couple weeks. You all failed miserably, I'M embarrassed, and you all should know resistant to shame I am by now. Do you recall, what I told you at the beginning of the year?"
The room greeted her with silence, either out of fear or amnesia. After a moment, she sighed.
"I said, 'you either pass my class as a group, or you fail it as a group' remember? You seem to have decided to fail as a group, after doing so well all year."
Her voice never raised above that whisper. Silently, she made her way over to the windowsill, where a can full of Popsicle sticks sat, unnoticed by the classroom. She set them down on top of her desk before making her way over to her whiteboard.
"Please, alphabetically, I want you all to grab one stick out of that can and return to your desks."
She turned to the board as students began shuffling forward, and began writing on the whiteboard in red marker. It was a single word:
DECIMATION
"Now."
She continued, raising her voice for the first time since class began.
"This is the perfect time for another lesson on Rome. Perhaps you'll remember this one. You see, Romans had a particular punishment reserved for military units who performed poorly, such as routing during an important battle. This punishment was called 'decimation'."
She paused, for effect, and a chill descended over the room.
"Deci means 'ten' in Latin. When a unit was being punished with decimation, they were forced to draw lots, much as you're doing at this moment. Most of the soldiers were spared, however, one-tenth of them were executed on the spot as motivation for the survivors."
Like a magician, she snapped her fingers and a 10 sided die appeared in her hands.
"You'll notice those lots you drew all have numbers. Because I am merciful, I shall roll this die and let luck decide your fates."
Noticing all of the students by then had followed her instructions and returned to their seats, she tossed the die up in the air and simply waited until it clattered onto her desk. With agonizing slowness she made her way over. Her eyes flicked from the die to her students, as a wicked grin spread across her face.
"Would anyone with the number eight, please stand up?"
Her smile almost faltered when the Warren boy stood up, along with one of the typical class slackers. So, one of the people who actually worked hard enough to pass it was going to be punished? Such was luck.
"Please, students, gaze upon your sacrifices with admiration, for they are saving your grades! Warren, screwoff, you two now have 0's. Everyone else? 100%"
Perhaps too stunned to speak, or too afraid of interrupting her, still the class stayed silent. Catherine took the opportunity to make her way to the white board once more. Uncapping the red marker, she drew a single number.
1
The facade of evil left her all at once, and she beamed at the class, holding up a single index finger to emphasis the point.
"By the way, everyone. That test is now worth one point. Retest tomorrow! STUDY THIS TIME!"
Having gone from mother to monster in the course of a single order, she began writing names on the board, pairing up study partners while humming the tune of "Mr. Roboto" from earlier. In the end, roughly people who got the higher grades were paired with people who got the lower grades. In this case, Zoey Reese and Blake Warren had their names situated right next to each other, sealing their fates for the remainder of the class.
When Catherine finished, she turned to the class with a smile.
"Remember kids, I only show mercy once."
With that, she drew a whip from the fold of her toga with a CRACK for emphasis, immediately sending students clambering to pair up with their partners. With a sigh, she made her way over to her desk and closed her eyes. She loved her job, most of the time, but it took a lot out of her. Maybe she'd try being a "normal" teacher sometime.
Try.
@The Muse@Blueajah
Who indeed.
Almost by reflex, the crowd of students parted, clearing a pathway for the figure making her way down the hall. She was a juxtaposition of modern and historic, draped in a deep purple garb resembling a toga emblazoned with the letters SPQR across the front and back. Perhaps any normal person who donned such a garb would wear it with dignity and respect.
But no.
She danced her way down the hall with jerking motions, in a clearly half-assed attempt at doing the Robot. Earbuds blissfully concealed whatever music she was listening to as she made her way through the school, but unfortunately for the poor students she made sure everyone around knew the words to her song.
"I've got a secret! I've been hiding! Under my skin!"
Perhaps her voice would be pleasant if she weren't trying to imitate a man from Chicago. As it was, students all around her covered their ears and groaned, too used to the spectacle to feel any actual shame for her. She ignored them, hooped earrings dangling every which way as she sang and danced towards her classroom. It was located towards the back of the school, up a small flight of stairs. As the woman reached the top of these she turned around, facing the hall of students head on. Ripping out one of the earbuds she screamed to them:
"DOMO ARIGATO MR. ROBOTO! DOMO!"
She cupped one of her hands around her free ear, clearly expecting a call and response. Instead she received a couple half-hearted 'domo's from the crowd, with the rest simply scowling at her in annoyance. She stuck her tongue out at them before clicking her heels and walking the last couple feet to her room.
Once she was in the safety of the classroom, she ripped out her earbuds and shoved them, along with her phone, into her desk. Today was a bad day. Not for her, but for the lovable little shitheads who decided to blow off her lessons and fail yesterday's test. A test she warned them would be hard. That she warned them to take the study guide seriously for. They were discussing Rome for heaven's sake! It didn't exactly have the smallest impact on human history. She flipped through the papers stacked on her desk one more time, memorizing the grades, until the bell rang.
As the students filed into the room one by one, she stood there, like the eye of a raging hurricane. In front of her was something that resembled a dart board, with sections labeled A-F. Beside her, on her desk, rested a box, filled with darts. Perfectly normal in design, except for one feature: On the back was taped the face of a student. As soon as a face appeared in her doorway she let a dart fly, with increasing aggression as it became evident that the class was screwed.
thunk. F.
Thunk. F.
THunk. F.
THUnk. F.
THUNk. D.
THUNK. F.
THUNK. F.
It was a complete 180 from her personality in the hallway. Sure, the underlying insanity remained, but the carefree attitude had given away to the cold exterior of an executioner. By the time the darts had run out, only three stood out from the clump of D's and F's . Blake Warren was one of the few. Slowly, she made her way over to her desk, and simply stared at her students, eyes moving from one end of the room to the other, until they all had been seated. Finally, she spoke, almost in a whisper:
"Rome is important. Perhaps I didn't make this clear enough the past couple weeks. You all failed miserably, I'M embarrassed, and you all should know resistant to shame I am by now. Do you recall, what I told you at the beginning of the year?"
The room greeted her with silence, either out of fear or amnesia. After a moment, she sighed.
"I said, 'you either pass my class as a group, or you fail it as a group' remember? You seem to have decided to fail as a group, after doing so well all year."
Her voice never raised above that whisper. Silently, she made her way over to the windowsill, where a can full of Popsicle sticks sat, unnoticed by the classroom. She set them down on top of her desk before making her way over to her whiteboard.
"Please, alphabetically, I want you all to grab one stick out of that can and return to your desks."
She turned to the board as students began shuffling forward, and began writing on the whiteboard in red marker. It was a single word:
DECIMATION
"Now."
She continued, raising her voice for the first time since class began.
"This is the perfect time for another lesson on Rome. Perhaps you'll remember this one. You see, Romans had a particular punishment reserved for military units who performed poorly, such as routing during an important battle. This punishment was called 'decimation'."
She paused, for effect, and a chill descended over the room.
"Deci means 'ten' in Latin. When a unit was being punished with decimation, they were forced to draw lots, much as you're doing at this moment. Most of the soldiers were spared, however, one-tenth of them were executed on the spot as motivation for the survivors."
Like a magician, she snapped her fingers and a 10 sided die appeared in her hands.
"You'll notice those lots you drew all have numbers. Because I am merciful, I shall roll this die and let luck decide your fates."
Noticing all of the students by then had followed her instructions and returned to their seats, she tossed the die up in the air and simply waited until it clattered onto her desk. With agonizing slowness she made her way over. Her eyes flicked from the die to her students, as a wicked grin spread across her face.
"Would anyone with the number eight, please stand up?"
Her smile almost faltered when the Warren boy stood up, along with one of the typical class slackers. So, one of the people who actually worked hard enough to pass it was going to be punished? Such was luck.
"Please, students, gaze upon your sacrifices with admiration, for they are saving your grades! Warren, screwoff, you two now have 0's. Everyone else? 100%"
Perhaps too stunned to speak, or too afraid of interrupting her, still the class stayed silent. Catherine took the opportunity to make her way to the white board once more. Uncapping the red marker, she drew a single number.
1
The facade of evil left her all at once, and she beamed at the class, holding up a single index finger to emphasis the point.
"By the way, everyone. That test is now worth one point. Retest tomorrow! STUDY THIS TIME!"
Having gone from mother to monster in the course of a single order, she began writing names on the board, pairing up study partners while humming the tune of "Mr. Roboto" from earlier. In the end, roughly people who got the higher grades were paired with people who got the lower grades. In this case, Zoey Reese and Blake Warren had their names situated right next to each other, sealing their fates for the remainder of the class.
When Catherine finished, she turned to the class with a smile.
"Remember kids, I only show mercy once."
With that, she drew a whip from the fold of her toga with a CRACK for emphasis, immediately sending students clambering to pair up with their partners. With a sigh, she made her way over to her desk and closed her eyes. She loved her job, most of the time, but it took a lot out of her. Maybe she'd try being a "normal" teacher sometime.
Try.
@The Muse@Blueajah
Aye, I was hoping for this too. Just sorta waiting on at least one other person to post.
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