The Nebulous

Mass Effect: Brink

@Gowi, so does Declan actually owe Errol money? lol! It's fine if he does, I can easily work with that.

Beyond Odyssey (Int Check)

With three people interested, I'll start working on the official threads. If anyone else wants to join, you are more than welcome to say so here! I'll come back with a link late tonight.

Beyond Odyssey (Int Check)

Interested, either as Head of Security or a scientist.

@Sovi3t

Head of security is fine. I'll work with you quite frequently in the background on that one, as it's a very pivotal role when it comes to negotiations with the indigenous and how the 1st Expeditionary ASF operates.

Beyond Odyssey (Int Check)

“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.” — H.P. Lovecraft

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2020. Top physicists from around the world were recruited by Apex Corp to unravel the secrets of string theory and quantum entanglement. By 2026, a construct deep below a remote Apex facility, a gate that was designed to sustain an open bridge in space-time, was finally activated after its long awaited completion. The first fifty tests all ended in complete failure... but the greatest minds of the 21st century refused to give up hope. Eventually, by December of that year, the gate made a successful bridge to an unknown connection.

Now, a team of more than three hundred brave souls has been assembled to hold a small footprint in a vast, new world full of mystery and intrigue; a world that does not obey all of the same laws as Earth.

Many bright and talented individuals (scientists, anthropologists, archaeologists, linguists, geographers, astronomers, clinicians, physicists, and more) have been personally invited by headhunters of Apex to join a massive coalition of three hundred members that are to embark on an expedition to the new world. Some have yet to make a name for themselves, while others are renowned experts in their field of study, with polished careers and accolades, but all of them possess unique talents and abilities that Apex needs.

The new world has its own cast of interesting characters as well, with some nefarious types aiming to exploit their uninvited guests' technology and knowledge.

Beyond the eye of Polyphemus, Odysseus must struggle to survive and keep their foothold in a new, very dangerous universe.

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The following hider contains a brief prelude to the story, if you care for some reading...

Beyond the Past

Even through the thick, double paned glass of the window that looked out over the Dallas cityscape, Tom could feel the intense Texas heat radiating down on his neck from behind. How he wished he had chosen to go with the classic executive chair when he was picking out furniture for his office. The tall leather back would have protected him from the warm sunlight. Instead, partially due to the Fountain Place tower’s air conditioning in the middle of a retrofitting upgrade, the thirty-two year-old was forced to sit uncomfortably and sweat in a minimalist drafting chair, hunched over the angled drawing table that served as his preferred desk.

Despite the adverse temperature, Dr. Thomas Virgil continued with his work. With steady hands, he penciled a line along the flat edge of a ruler to complete the overlay of one of the many walls that made up the interior of an ancient, complex temple in what used to be the territory of the ancient Achaemenid Empire. Over the last few years, Tom had been overseeing multiple dig site projects in Western Asia, unearthing long-forgotten secrets of a nation that overshadowed even the famous Roman Empire. His due diligence throughout the beginning of his ripening career as a cultural anthropologist – who mainly enjoyed the gritty fieldwork of archaeology – was finally coming to fruition.

Since attaining his Ph.D. in cultural anthropology, Tom had been solely focused on highlighting the more sublime cross-overs of lost cultures and schools of thought; emphasizing the evolution of both human governance and religion. He had travelled the world in search of similar paradigms and recognizable symbols that linked one culture to a potential predecessor. Most of this work was already done by anthropologists that had long walked this road before him, but Dr. Virgil’s main focus was on the paradoxical root of human society; the ever elusive beginning of it all. Certainly a daunting task, even for the wisest philosopher.

A knock at the door to his office disturbed his amateur architectural work and the doctor flicked his light-blue eyes up to see a man wearing a charcoal black suit with a satin-grey tie standing in the threshold of the door. A faint sparkle announced the presence of a pin presented neatly on his left jacket lapel. Virgil wasn’t able to make it out clearly, however. The stranger’s knuckles rested gently on the metallic frame and he wore a casual smirk that suggested he had found the person he appeared to be seeking.

“Yes? Can I help you?” Tom asked, slightly lowering his pencil out of curiosity.

A younger man’s voice called out from behind and Virgil could hear the clomping soles of his secretary marching over from his desk outside. The face of a youthful college graduate peeked around from behind the stranger and he exclaimed, “Doctor V., I’m so sorry; he wouldn’t listen to me!”

“That’s quite alright, Zen,” Tom insisted. “Is there something we can do for you, sir?”

The man lowered his hand and slid it easily inside the pocket of his trousers, lifting the bottom of his jacket in folds. Stepping further into Tom’s office, the stranger introduced himself, saying, “I apologize for interrupting your work, Doctor Virgil. My name is Clarence Gates. I’m a headhunter for-”

The man needn’t continue. Now that Mr. Gates was further inside, Tom could make out the lapel pin. The “A” logo of the renowned private corporation was unmistakable, with the curving center bar that represented a gradual approach to that highest point of a curve that the company’s very name preaches.

“-Apex Corp,” Tom said, finishing the man’s sentence.

“Quite right,” Mr. Gates enthusiastically replied. “Do you have a minute to talk, sir?”

“I’m afraid I’m not interested.”

The man seemed taken off guard for a moment before reinforcing his smile and asking, “I’m sorry?”

“You said you’re a headhunter,” Virgil reminded him. “Apex is the world’s leading technological research organization that has surpassed even the most notable international firms of its kind; mostly due in part to your selective recruiting of intellectual and creative prodigies from around the world. Even CERN can’t hold a candle to what Apex is capable of. Now, you’re here for either one of two reasons; either Apex is suddenly interested in Mesopotamian archaeology and would like to hire my team, or you’ve mistakenly come to think that I am a possessor of prodigal talent. The latter is most certainly untrue, as I won’t discredit Apex’s ability to correctly research someone’s background for even a second, given their vast wealth of information resources, and I’m hardly interesting enough to hire; which leaves us with the former – an offer that I must respectfully decline.”

The gentleman seemed unfazed by Tom’s water-downed description of his employers. “You read me like a brochure,” he said. “But you’re wrong on both counts.”

There was a momentary pause between the two men before Tom set down his pencil and ruler and called out, “Zen! Can I get two cups of coffee?” Standing up from his seat, Tom ran a hand through his wealth of wavy, brown hair and walked over to the center of the large office, where he gestured for Mr. Gates to take a seat on one of the black leather sofas.

“Alright,” the doctor said, “I suppose I can spare a few minutes of my time.”

“A few minutes is all I need.” Gates unbuttoned his jacket and sat down across from Virgil, leaning forward with his elbows supported on his knees. “First, if you don’t believe yourself to be someone ‘interesting enough’ for us to hire, then you’re sorely mistaken. Apex doesn’t exclusively look for prodigies; we look for all kinds of people. Experienced or inexperienced, rough or refined, supporters of corporations or not…”

“Like I said, you people are well-informed.”

Zen came back into the office and set down two mugs of freshly poured, warm coffee left black and several packets of sugar and powdered creamer between them. The young man then quietly returned to his clerical duties.

Tearing open one of the sugar packets and dumping the contents over the drink, Gates said, “Yes, I’m keenly aware of your anti-corporate sentiments, doc. During your college years, you had co-sponsored an occupy movement against Seris Enterprises for launching an unquestionably distasteful fashion line of ancient Egyptian clothing that mocked a longtime, academically respected culture.”

“That’s only one of the two reasons,” Tom said, stirring the creamer he had placed in his own coffee. “The other, and more important one, was that Seris’ CEO was fully aware that her company was engaging in illicit overseas labor practices and did nothing to correct that issue. Seris’ ‘Ancient Egypt’ brand line was unarguably a direct product of those practices.”

The two of them shared another moment of silence as they simultaneously sipped their beverages. Mr. Gates was the first to finish his gulp and speak. “Your distrust of major companies like us is absolutely warranted, doctor; but I’m not here to argue free market theory with you. As I said, and as you reminded me, I’m a headhunter; and we are interested in Mesopotamian archaeology; or rather… a team of archaeologists that specializes in Mesopotamian cultures.”

“I must admit that I find that to be somewhat strange, Mr. Gates. As a company that throws caution to the wind with technological innovation and, what you people have taken to calling, ‘self-controlled human evolution’; studying the past doesn’t seem like something that would fit in Apex’s portfolio.”

Gates took another, longer sip of his coffee before returning the mug to the table between them. With a sly smile that made Tom raise a brow, the man said in codified language, “We actually won’t be studying the past; but rather, the present. Another present, anyway.” Reaching a hand inside his inner jacket pocket, Gate’s revealed a grey business card with a black Apex “A” logo embellished on the front. He placed the card on the coffee table and slid it across the way toward Tom. “Give him a call if you’re interested in learning about the details. I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss this further.”

Confused, Tom opened his mouth to speak, but Gates was already up on his feet and moving toward the door to his office. “Thanks for your time, doc,” he said in a nonchalant tone, buttoning his jacket as he walked. “I’m sure I’ll see you again in the very near future.”

Virgil remained where he was on his sofa after the man disappeared, with a baffled expression on his face. A second later, Zen poked his head inside the office with a quizzical look and simply asked, “Sir? What was all that about?”

Tom leaned forward and slid the mysterious business card closer before flipping it up and taking it in his hand. The front side only bore the Apex logo, with a popping embellishment pushed through the stiff paper. He flipped the card around in his fingers and saw a single telephone number, followed by a two letter abbreviation beneath it.

i.e.

“Id est?” Tom asked aloud. “No… those are initials.”

Zen was now walking fully into the office and made his way toward the mugs on the coffee table to begin retrieving them. “Initials, sir?” he inquired, still curious as to what was going on.

“The initials of Time Magazine’s ‘2021 Person of the Year’,” Tom answered. “Apex’s founder and CEO…”

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Notes

-- I'm looking for high-casual to advanced writers that would be interested and willing to take on two roles each for this RP. At first, everyone will create and start with only one character: a member of the Odysseus expeditionary team. They can be either a scientist/researcher/explorer or a member of the Apex Security Forces (more on them later when(if) this warrants enough interest for me to make the official threads). Later on, the writers will have the opportunity to create a new character: someone that lives in the world beyond the Polyphemus gate.

-- This is to be a somewhat high-paced RP. I don't have much patience for week-long lulls in posting, so please don't sign up if you think your plate is already fairly full with other roleplays or you can't at least contribute one post every five days. To help reduce pressure on posting, I'm not asking for super lengthy novellas. Four or five paragraphs is perfectly fine, and less is even better (to be honest) during scenes with constant dialogue and interaction. The "advanced" level of writing is expected with your character development, creativity, and authorial voice.

-- Participants do not necessarily need to be well-versed in their character's chosen field of study or career; however, some basic research on terms they would use and tasks they would routinely perform can go a long way in providing a convincing narrative. That said, don't pick a field for your character that you have absolutely zero knowledge of whatsoever. Total ignorance is noticeable and might stifle your ability to keep up. Ernest Hemingway once advised that you ought to write the truth when writing fiction.

-- I need at least three people (not including myself) interested before I dedicate myself to creating the official threads. Post here if you'd like to join in.

The Wards of The King - A Song of Ice And Fire Roleplay (High Casual)(Reboot)

Finally got a post up! Gabriel's not currently interacting with anyone, but he's open to any approaches in the courtyard. Might even be up to sparring if someone can talk him into it. :)

The Wards of The King - A Song of Ice And Fire Roleplay (High Casual)(Reboot)

Gabriel Martell

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The past few nights in the Red Keep had been comfortable enough, but Gabriel was quickly becoming homesick. The sun in King's Landing was warm, but it was nothing compared to it in Dorne; and the sound of Blackwater bay's capped waves rolling onto the shore was different as well. At Sunspear, the beaches were among Gabriel's favorite places to visit in order to clear his crowded thoughts. Here, the shoreline was too cramped against the jagged cliffs of Aegon's Hill, and the water smelled and felt too foreign to him. And then there was the airflow, or lack thereof. Sunspear was far more open, with plenty of airways that welcomed cool breezes, venting the rooms with fresh atmosphere all year. The architecture and security of the Red Keep, however, strangled the airflow and he would often catch a strong whiff of the city's repugnant odor creeping its way through the choked currents.

Alas, he had little to really complain about. At least the other wards were getting along fine enough. He had heard stories about past rivalries and gruesome bloodshed among their ancestors. Recorded history was enough to make him worry about his own safety around them, but their first days together had been... remarkably pedestrian. A little more than one hundred years ago, the sons and daughters of the great houses would have drove daggers through each others' hearts had they all been forced into the same room together, regardless of guest right. Now, though, they were like long-lost relatives with odd quirks and ticks that merely rubbed each other the wrong way sometimes. Still, Gabriel remained distant from the lot of them. He had no connection or familial ties with any of them save for the Targaryens, and even the royal family was too far separated from him to be openly shadowing all the time. It would be unbecoming of him as a Martell.

In the same courtyard as the others that were focused on honing their skills before the start of the tourney, he had decided to practice his own gift. Whether archery would be an event of the tourney or not was not really of much concern, but he figured a bit of sport to start the day would be relatively appropriate to mark the day. With his black glazed weirwood recurve bow, Gabriel fired several volleys of arrows at a thatch target on the far end of the courtyard, safely away in a lane of his own, so as to not endanger the others that were training. Five arrows hit the center mark with a perfect thwack.

The tall Dornishman behind his right shoulder was carefully watching with keen eyes as Gabriel focused on his form, breathing, and draw. "No need to split the target in two, young prince," the man said. "Easy on the pull. Let her fly softly, and she'll still hit the mark."

The man's name was Mordyn, a master archer in his own right, and a faithful servant of House Caron that had accompanied Gabriel and Toran to King's Landing--along with the rest of the Martell entourage. When the bow had been gifted to Gabriel on his thirteenth nameday by the house's lord, Mordyn was appointed as Gabriel's mentor. Even though the young man was eager to show off his ever-strengthening skill, he still heeded the seasoned warrior's coaching.

After slowly exhaling and relaxing his muscles, Gabriel nocked another arrow and drew the string to a half-draw towards his usual anchor at the cheek. Aiming slightly higher, but barely enough to notice the difference by his eye, he compensated for the lesser power and then released. The arrow flew at a more pronounced arch, but landed exactly where Gabriel wanted it to go, forcing its way through the other bunched arrows already embedded in the target.

"Bravo, sir," Mordyn praised.

Gabriel sighed. "It doesn't quite feel the same," the boy remarked.

"Arrows were never meant to fly fast and straight, young prince. They were designed to provide a more indirect approach to combat from a ranged vantage point. With almost any distance, the wise archer has the ability to strike his foe in any number of ways." Mordyn stepped around to stand before Gabriel and placed a finger on the young man's chest with a pressured push. "Whether that's through the heart...," he then pointed to Gabriel's throat, "through his airway...," at his forehead, "or through his skull. And an even craftier archer can miss the man, but kill him with the same arrow anyway."

Gabriel looked at him with a raised brow and demanded, "How is that possible?"

With a smirk, the old man stepped back around and said with a chuckle, "That's enough for today, young prince. I think it best to rest your bow arm now should you find a place for yourself in the tourney."

Mass Effect: Brink

"So who else is on Omega that we know?" Declan asked, following some continued chatter after Trish had sent her message to Rosa.

"Errol arrived on the station a few hours ago. Knowing him, he should be grabbing a drink, too. Probably already met up with the other two. Then there's Zik. He's... well, he's Zik; but I've seen him have better days. Oh, our tubby round friend is here, too. Vol has been making a name for himself on Omega, as well as being a thorn in Aria's side." Trish walked over to the railing and placed her forearms squarely over the top bar, leaning over to gaze out into the distance.

"We've all been doing our own thing, Dec," she continued. "Whether that be odd jobs, working for more powerful people, or trying to piece together some delusional plan for our lives..." She looked back at him over her shoulder, with dark violet eyes glaring at him with the flare of Omega's red and orange lights. "So, you better be real about coming back. Because we don't need you to fuck with us anymore than fate already has."

The man started to speak, but paused to think about his words carefully. Part of what she just said had rubbed him the wrong way, but he also knew she was being genuinely forward with him, and that's just how Trish was. Besides, it was evident by her tone that the former Dashers had been through enough after they were split up. It wasn't his place to step in and be the savior that was going to make everything right again. God knows... none of the last two years had been easy for him either.

"Trish, I-"

The sound of a door swishing open pulled their attention away and toward the three figures that walked out of Afterlife. They were certainly a sight for sore eyes. A pink-cheeked and obviously inebriated Rosa was leading the trio, with Abrax and Errol in tow shortly behind her. Declan opened his arms to his sides and yelled down to them with a wide grin, "Holy hell, you guys look like shit! Abrax, you big lug, have you lost weight? Errol, enough with the doom and gloom look, man. You've still that going for you, huh? And Rosa-"

Several muffled gunshots from behind caught everyone's attention, and Dec, before he could finish his comment on the blonde's unruly hair, spun ninety degrees to face the tenement building adjacent to them and Afterlife. Trish jogged away from her spot at the transitway railing to join them and looked up toward the approximate floor that the firefight was taking place on.

"I see Omega's gang activity is still as wild as ever," Dec commented right before an obnoxious explosion erupted from several windows on the third floor, making the gang back away to avoid the falling debris.

He could see the faint glimmer of someone's kinetic shielding in the surrounding flame and then the body gracefully tumbled down through the air and landed with an elegant roll, straight into an up-right stride that oozed egotistical confidence. The snarky smirk, the face-paint, the aura of a born and bred killer... Of course it was Zik. Only he would make such a reckless entrance.

"Declan Calaway. Trishar Rayana. Been a minute. Good to see you again."

Dec, with a raised brow and slightly agape mouth, slowly looked from Zik to the flaming inferno he had left behind in his wake on the building's third floor. He could hear the painful cries of... Vorcha, maybe?

"Missed you. Thought I'd bring party favors."

"Of course you did, buddy." Dec replied with a mixture of a sigh and a chuckle. Reaching behind him, the man lifted up his leather jacket and unholstered a concealed Striker from the magnetic clip. As the pistol extended itself in his hand, he casually looked to the others and asked, "Well, how about we all catch up over a round of Vorcha?"

Mass Effect: Brink

Such an insane cast of characters! I love you all!

...And what's wrong with "Dashers", [@Howler?] lol!

Mass Effect: Brink

@Culluket, that post had me rolling. xD And I got your PM. Everyone! Kill the vorcha! SEND IN THE KROGAN!

Edit: ... But we should wait until Howler catches up with us. :P

The Wards of The King - A Song of Ice And Fire Roleplay (High Casual)(Reboot)

I'm still around; I'm just waiting on the timeskip. :)