wanderingwolf

Hi guys

Welcome! What sort of roleplaying are you interested in?

Hello from the Farm

Welcome to RPG!

Your homestead sounds like a fantastic place. I'm sure you've got all sorts of stories to tell from that alone. There's lots to do with the Supernatural, fantasy, or horror going on around here. I'm sure you'll find something!

Are you interested in original stories, fandoms, or both? There's quite a lot of fandom games around, but original stories are a treat, too.

Hàlo!

Welcome to the site! I'm sure you'll be able to find games that suit your interest here :D

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Hey @Gunther great thoughts and dreams from Hook’s head. One note: it appears that the dream was posted to the “Character” tab instead of the “IC” tab. Would you mind moving it over there? Thank you sir, and he and Cal should get a post together to finally meet!

Firefly - Second 'Verse

OOC: Cal and Penelope take the ship out for the first time! A JP between @aalakrys and @wanderingwolf

Matters managed, cargo strapped, and crew settled, it was time to put Persephone and Badger in the rear view. To him, this trip was the equivalent of begging to eat, what with a near full crew hired and a few jobs lined up on the side, Badger’s no-questions-asked crates were still the impetus for the China Doll seein’ black again. The notion that Badger’s mechanics had been crawling all over her made his stomach turn, but beggars as they say... Captain Strand climbed the ladder up and stepped onto the bridge. His pilot, Penelope Randell, was sat at the console absorbed in some measures or readings of some nature.

“How’s she feel? Doll’s a mite lighter than the ol’ Komodo, but you’ll see once we shove off.” Cal entered, sans duster and hat, his ruddy hair nappy from the heat and humidity of Persephone.

Penelope turned to see the captain as he spoke,, giving him a grin that hadn't left her lips since she stepped aboard. "I'd say she fits like a glove I've had my eye on for a minute. Use'ta have a planet-side glider, so I'm raring for some lightness again. We all set down below to head up?"

“Glider, huh? Well, we ain’t quite that light,” he chuckled, turning to lean against the console, back to the China Doll’s expansive view of Persephone. “Cargo’s strapped down and the bay’s shut tight. Now,” he began, crossing his arms, “how about we take her up? First, some thing’s you oughta know about the Doll: She’s got a misconfiguration on output in the right atmo, so she pulls to the left when you first get goin’. Once we get a proper mechanic we can get that sorted out. Second, we’re gonna be a bit back heavy as we’re carryin’ passengers and cargo; we’ll tilt a little aft, but the hands did their best to balance out the crates.” He eyed the young woman to see if she was paying attention, but that big smile of hers never faded. “I’d take her up to show you, but I’m liable to send Hook’s fare of burger and fries onto laps in the galley. Let’s see how you do.” Cal stepped over to the captain’s chair.

Though she wasn't sure how much of what Cal said was for true or a test, Pen wasn't put off in the slightest. In fact, she appreciated that he didn't figure her take-off likely to tossle some plates. And, he didn't seem unnecessarily wary about her abilities - at least, he didn't show it. Nervous wasn't really something the pilot felt, but excitement, well she had buckets. All kept from flowin' over, she simply gave a nod before swiveling to the console to receive the controls as they released. "Fits just right, Cap'n. 'Fore I see how she handles, got any words for the hold and folks in her?"

“That’s good,” Cal nodded and picked up the comm receiver which crackled to life. “This is your captain speaking, and I’d like to welcome you aboard the China Doll. We’re prepped for take off on route to New Melbourne. Trip takes us near three days on full burn, so settle in. Deckhand Hook’s prepared some fare for everyone in the galley. Once we’re in the sky, feel free to enjoy what he’s set out. Passengers, now would be the time to strap in for take off; crew, take one last look over the bay and you know what to do. Any questions or concerns during the trip can be aimed at Rex, and thank you for bookin’ passage on the China Doll.” With that, the comm cut out and Cal returned it to its hook.

Strand strapped himself in and turned to Penelope. “She’s all yours.” He had high hopes for the young woman, as she’d proven she knew a thing or two about boats. If she proved herself through takeoff, then he would be all the more grateful. It was a big ask to trust the China Doll in the hands of a stranger, but he was anxious to get off Persephone and Penelope had agreed to finesse the boat to their destination. His fingers itched for a cigarette, but he relented, instead leaning over his console to flip the landing gear switch in preparation for his pilot’s first takeoff.

While the captain was giving his passengers a word on the comms, Penelope had set to the preflight check once the go-ahead was given to fire the China Doll up, alerting the ground that they were departing. The hum of the engines coming to life was like music to her soul, set to soar along with the bird, amping up for the lift. Upthrust regulators checked real nice, aside from the flasher going that notified her of what the captain said earlier about favorin’ the right. Her mind was already compensating the pull of it, as well as the tilt of weight down in the cargo hold. This Firefly was a fair bit lighter than the Komodo, as Cal had commented, but all weight had to be attributed when gettin’ a girl off the ground. No ship wanted to drag its tail or nose-dive right on release, and no pilot wanted the embarrassment of it. She was far from green enough to avoid that, at least.

Her eyes, now familiar with the layout given the time of her arrival onboard, danced over all the right places her fingertips found as the ship settled after its spark to life. If she were a musician, this was her instrument. There was more flexibility here than her last boat, too, and more movement, and she swayed with the seat as it swirled beneath her direction until she came to rest with her hands back on the control wheel. One second of a breath, eyes shut, heartbeat, and hum.

It wasn’t nerves, it was exhilaration being kept in check. For if it were her alone, she would have blasted out full throttle. But there was the Doll to think about, and the passengers, and crew. This wasn’t her glider, and there would be plenty of fun to be had - she had a sure feelin’ about that one, especially from the little she picked up about the captain's previous adventures from that chat in the hall. So, the moment her hazel eyes popped open, herself in check, she gave the captain a wink and got to work.

With an ease back on the control wheel, she felt what the China Doll was tryin’ to tell her. They were talkin’, her and the girl. All through Penelope’s slight hands and tension in her right forearm to keep them steady as they lifted, her eyes on the primary flight display to keep mind for adjustment, she was listenin’ to what the Doll had to say. They were steady, and good, so she upped the throttle to give the girl the lift she needed before pulling back and flipping the thrusters. The rising sensation filled Penelope from her toes up, spreading along her chest and into the arms that buzzed with the vibration of the ship. Her smile broke free from her eyes and lit up her face as they took off at increasing speed to break atmo. In that moment, there was only her and the Doll and the bright blue they were about to burn to black sky.

The ship purred, in a much better state than when he’d arrived in Persephone. Cal had needed to fly her himself, and that had meant for a bumpy landing which cracked an atmo guard plate. Tweren’t his fault, he told himself, the China Doll had been worse for wear. Now, you wouldn’t even be able to tell it was the same boat under Penelope’s guiding hand. The lift was regulated, precise, not jarring in the least. The rising in his stomach told him he had picked true in Penelope, and he silently congratulated himself for being an excellent judge of character. He felt a smirk tugging at his cheek, watching the woman settle in as if she’d been in that seat forever and always. Did his best to hide it, though; didn’t want to puff up her head too much. All he dared say was a simple, “Mighty fine,” as the sky turned from blue to black.

Well, ain't that a grand compliment, Pen thought as her eyes flicked over to the captain and she gathered her cheer back inward some. All the while, she held steady at the controls - one small error could be quite a large catastrophy when breaking atmo was concerned. Had she been younger, he just might've caught her concentrating, but years of practice left her a little easy-going on the surface. Still, she spoke as her eyes turned back to the sky. "Thank you, cap'n."

Once they leveled out after the break, and the course checked and set with a once over and little tweaking on her part, Penelope let the controls relax out of her hands a bit. Less gravity meant less tension tugging against the ship and her arms. "Lookin' like three days at full burn. Slight veering could be a problem for the Doll to stay on course on her own. Did ya manage to wrangle up a mechanic?"

“We got one, an’ she’s tucked in, way I hear it.” Cal picked up the comm again and flipped the dial to the engineering bay. “How’re we settlin’ in there?” Cal called to the mechanic on the other end.

After a second the speaker on the bridge echoed back, “Ship shape and ready for full-burn. Atmos heat reading is nominal, but you had some la shi mechanic set your right engine to one hundred and ten percent throughput and—”

Cal cut her off, “I know, I know. If it’s an easy fix you’ve got carte blanche to set it straight, less it requires something that costs, then you’re outta luck, sister.”

“Copy,” was all the reply that came.

“Well ain’t that nice,” Cal crooned to Penelope, “we got a mechanic who knows what she’s doin’ to boot.” Captain Strand reclined in his chair, the picture of pleased to be staring out at the stars.

Penelope followed along with what the voice on the other end of the conversation with the captain was saying, nodding with a little smile at the reply. If the issue cost, that meant more time on the flight deck for her. At least there was a head close by, and she already had something in her gut even if it'd been a while, just in case. "I'll monitor the output from here and keep us on course, if'n ya want to get some dinner and all."

Cal rose from the chair opposite Penelope, “Don’t mind if I do.” He took a step toward the door before adding, “Nice job taking her out of world; glad to see the Doll under proper heading again.”

"I'm happy to be here." The China Doll's new pilot showed that truth all about her. She started to turn back to the console, but pushed back 'round with a hand on the dash. "Hey, Cap'n? What'd ya want that adapter for, anyway? Everything here seems to be ship-shape after those guys cleared out - didn't see 'em install it on the flight deck. Though I did do a scan to see if they installed anything extra, if ya know what I mean."

Cal nodded, “Damn near forgot, what with cargo, passengers, and the like.” He joined her at the console, extricating the Epsilon adapter from his pocket. Getting down on one knee, the captain rooted around in the rat’s nest of wires and cables beneath the pilot’s console before he found what he was looking for. “Alright, so this piece ought to connect to this one… and perfect.” The adapter snapped into place with a length of cable. He wrapped it around so that it sat on the top far left of her controls. “Be right back,” Strand said, rising and disappearing through the hallway and down to the captain’s quarters.

Penelope had been watching her new captain as he sorted through the mess of cables until he plopped the end of the adaptor atop the console dash before popping off. He was back before she had much thought as to what he was up to, just curious and not at all unsettled by the proximity in which he'd been previously. She was used to working in tight quarters with all sorts, and he sure didn't make her fell like ol' Dev did. Not a worry was spent in the moment before Cal was back again.

A few seconds later he materialized back on the bridge with a black box the size of a book in hand. “Now this ought to fit,” he said, handling the box to line it up with the Epsilon adapter. With a snug clip, the two were one and the box started making a whirring noise. “You alright there?” The Captain called to the box. “Hullo? Huh, seems it’s shy. Well, this here is--”

Beside them, the intercom blurted out, “Captain, need you here in the engineering bay.”

“Xiànzài shì shénme,” Cal uttered, pressing the comm to reply, “be right down.” Replacing the receiver, he added to Penelope, “Better deal with this before we end up adrift out here.” And then he was gone, leaving Penelope with the small whirring box on her console. In his absence it began making a slow clicking sound.

Though she was no stranger to talking to inanimate objects - case in point the conversation between her and the China Doll during take off - those little clicks had Penelope curious. She eyed it once the captain was off, tilting her head and asking aloud: "Well, introductions were cut short, so I'm Penelope - I'll be ridin' alongside you for the time being. Now, who might you be?"

Her eyes danced as she leaned in to get a good look at the newly rigged up box. This trip was already getting interesting, and she did like interesting.

Over the top Zombie RP

The blood and the spatter from his first blow not only covered the Father in guts and gore, but sent the putrid substance all across the walls and floor. It seemed that he had not been as careful as he aimed to be. Morgan's voice echoed from below, and seeing that the zombie was still anchored to the chain which bound it, Isaac dropped a free hand to wipe the splatter from around his eyes.

"Yes," he sighed in his thick Haitian accent, "just lost my grip," he added, still mopping his eyes. "Alright, you might want to cover your mouth this time, just in case." Father Isaac could scarcely believe that he was butchering what looked to be what was left of a man in his pajamas, the rest of his face notwithstanding from the first blow. Now, the gory hole in the side of his face clicked with each gnashing movement from the zombie's incessant jaws. With that the Father raised the machete in his hands yet again, hoping this time to deliver a clean blow to end the thrashing zombie in front of him before the chain gave way under its efforts.

Over the top Zombie RP

Sorry I haven't updated here. An emergency came up the last few days and I've had to travel to fix a family member's computer. I'm wrapping up here now and should be back home tonight.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Howdy crew!

Hook's taking care of crew and passengers alike in the galley, Badger's men just showed with three crates and a passenger on the ramp, and takeoff is imminent! Tuck into your meals fast, as the China Doll's about to see the black! Should be plenty of time to wrap up JP's in the galley, or any other solo posts you've got brewing.

Cal wants to be up in fifteen, but knowing him, we've got an hour. :D

Firefly - Second 'Verse

OOC: JP from @psych0pomp and @wanderingwolf

Rex heard other voices and movement throughout the ship, but he made a beeline for the bunks. He threw his bag past the bunker-like door and it gave out a muffled thump as it hit the floor. He more carefully brought Lucky’s cage down with the power of his arm strength and careful maneuvering of his body. As his feet landed one the ground, he was reminded of why he hated Firefly models. Damn bunks felt like a grave.

He didn’t have much in the way of luggage. It was what he could stuff into his leather pack and tow from ship to ship. He tended to Lucky’s cage first. Securing it to the hull with a thick chord and setting out some food and water for the bird. He undid the latch, letting the door swing down much like a drawbridge. It would give a place for the bird to sit and watch him. And Lucky did, after grabbing some processed bird food that cost more than Rex could consume in a week—in food. His black eyes watched the tall human maneuver through the room, and chirped up when Rex started whistling.

The clothes were packed away first. The trinkets, like a lucky golden cat (much to Lucky’s ire), a hand sewn flag with a mixture of galactic symbols, and a few books started to fill the empty space of the room. He even threw that plumb colored scarf over a light, adding a rather mauve ambiance.

Rex pulled his jacket off, placing it on the bed that he had made and adorned with a small blanket that had a lot more sentimental value than one might first realize. He stood there in the bright blue shirt with pink flowers adoring it. It was tucked in the front of his pants that displayed his belt with a bawdy buckle in front and a leather knife holder at his side—he’d hung his gun up, it was more a hazard on Rex’s person than anything. His arms were bare, tanned from the weather rather than genetics. Surprisingly, he didn’t have tattoos. He did have quite a few jingly bangles and tied pieces of leather around his wrists. They barely hid the puckered white scars that adorned both of his wrists. He ran his ringed hand through his hair, pulling his glasses off and setting them to the side. He rubbed his eyes.

Lucky fluffed up, content to be off the streets of Persephone. The bird started singing a repetitive ditty, and Rex joined in with his whistling—surprisingly matching the song.

Into the belly of the ship, the captain met empty hallways up to the gangway. Cal had half a mind to pop in on Penelope and see how things were going, or if they were still on reserve power while Badger’s mechanics buttoned up the boat. That’s when he heard a strange, yet familiar sound. It was the whistling that caught Cal’s ear.

Rex had been on the China Doll before. In fact, the pair had shared near on two years aboard the ship before the unfortunate circumstances which parted them ways. Seeing as Rex saw fit to show his face here again, and as a mate no less, Cal needed to look the man in the eye. And so it was with a kick to the hatch below that Cal summoned Rex from above.

Rex’s whistling came to an abrupt halt. Lucky was startled at the noise and flew towards Rex, landing on his shoulder and burying himself into the collar of the tacky shirt. “Occupied! Find some other bunk to kick at.” He turned to the bird, who was trying to find sanctuary in his short-trimmed beard. “How green is this crew that they don’t even know how hatches work? I fully expect to find one licking fire by tonight.” Before he could finish his laugh with his avain companion, another stern, summoning kick came from above.

He tossed aside the old book he was thumbing through and climbed up the ladder. Pushing the hatch up, he started speaking before he could see who was above him. “If you don’t stop, we’re at a perfect angle that I can punch you in the nuts, and if you’re a…” his words trailed off as he saw Cal above him. A smile passed across his lips. “Well, if it isn’t the man himself, Captain Strand. Not dead or fat, I see. Though you might be working towards one of those.”

Strand stepped aside while stroking his chin and watched the man climb out of the bunk. “See, now I’m confused.” He waited a beat. “Near on two years since I’ve heard the name Rex Black. I believe it was the night before the chicken-shit job, when you slipped out on a stopover in Ariel. After we fueled up I thought you was passed out in this very bunk, ‘til we touched down in Hera. You know, we sat there for hours with a mountain of chicken shit in the boiling heat waiting for your contact to show?” He arched his brow at Rex. “Poor Jesse and Phil had to scrub the la shi from the Doll and it still smelled like fowl for a month.”

Rex pulled himself out, closing the hatch behind him as he did. The ceilings of these ships were always lower than he’d like, giving a feeling of claustrophobic compression. So, he had a tendency to hunch. “Wait, what?” He asked. He started to thumb one of the beaded bracelets on his wrist in thought. “Look. That was a humanitarian mission. It was supposed to be fertilizer for a small colony planet out in the Border. Why the hell Mikkel wouldn’t show is…” He paused. “Well, at the time he was one of the Alliance’s most wanted. Or was that before the Great Bovine Escapade? Oh man, did you see that on your cortex? That shit was insane.”

“I did,” he replied, “put me to mind of ‘18 when we steered a head straight for some no-name town on Beaumonde,” Cal shook his head, “when the baron’s men showed, surrounded on all sides; they were lookin’ for a five-fingered discount.” He laughed, “I think you missed every shot, but they were all lookin’ at that neon green shirt you had on.” Strand scratched the back of his neck, “Gǎnxiè fú, one of us can shoot.”

Rex laughed. That caused Lucky to make a somewhat light trill as he turned his head towards Cal. It was almost as if the bird’s eyes narrowed, but maybe he was just sleepy. “I’ve always been honest about my skills from day one. Why do you think I dress like this?” He paused. “Though, remember that time I got trapped with that Mayor’s daughter, Beatrice or something, without nothing but my gun? I was halfway across the field when I turned to shoot. I pressed the trigger. And bam the mayor’s goon went down. I was thanking Lady Luck that I’d finally figured out how to shoot. But turns out, it was you--like five feet behind me.” He tugged on his collar. “I still have that scar where he got half a brand off on my back. I was a little preoccupied at that moment. If you know what I mean. Speaking of which… did you and what’s-her-face ever work out?”

“Aw c’mon Rex, you know we can’t all be swashbuckling romantics out of some trashy holo like you.” Cal’s face relaxed. “Much as my pride hates to admit it, I could use your help here. I got a ship full of crew I don’t know and we’re runnin’ a job for Badger… Not my finest moment, but the China Doll’s still in the air, so that’s somethin’. This time I need to know I can count on you not to leave me holding the bag of bird shit when you’re out the door. Whaddya say, first mate?” He offered his hand to Rex.

“Badger?” Rex’s tone easily reflected the dubious nature of that deal. “Not your finest moment, indeed. But I’m not one to judge--obviously.” He extended his hand as Cal did. “I promise I won’t leave you high and dry this time. I won’t head out for a pack of year long cigarettes again.” It was then that he grabbed a hold of Cal’s hand and held it firmly. He drew the captain into a brisk hug, never one to enjoy a sterile greeting. Lucky took that moment to jump ship and hopped onto Cal’s shoulder.

“So, how green are we talking with this crew?” He said, pulling away. “Are we talking mint julep peach or so green a dog might accidentally shit on them?”

Cal’s eyes widened as the bird surveyed him from his shoulder, switching sides of its head probably to measure eye-plucking distance. “Let’s just say I met the doc while bleedin’ out the ear, the pilot kept me from shootin’ up a charlatan, and the deckhand hired the rest, even with all her personality.” Cal had raised a finger to Lucky’s beak height, maybe gauging to see if the bird felt the need to chew on flesh before he would scoop it up. “Damn, I could go for a pack of year-long cigarettes right now.” Then he moved closer to Rex, “Last job brought down a little more heat than I anticipated; partially why I needed Badger and t’ kick dirt ASAP.” Seeing as Lucky had deigned not to bite Cal’s finger, he ventured for a five-fingered pet of the colorful beast.

“Oh yeah, Cal Junior. I met her.” He smiled. “For a second there, I thought you had a kid, Captain. I was about to feel sorry for someone. Who? I don’t know.” There was only a beat before he really examined what Cal had said. “But it sounds like a decent group, even if it seems like you’re trying to pad your chances for romance.” He winked, still chuckling as Cal got closer. Lucky seemed wary for a moment, but allowed the Captain to give him a pet, even if it was only self-serving.

“Shit, Cal,” Rex said, keeping to their hushed tone. “What’d you do?” He then held his hands up. “Actually, don’t tell me. Just tell me what you want me to do when Badger arrives. We don’t want to spill the mint julep of our new crew all over him.”

“Hell, Don Juan, you never change, do you?” Cal said, impressing even himself with how good he was with animals. Retrieving his hand from the bird he rubbed it off on his shirt.

“Fill you in over a drink. For now, keep a handle on things here with the crew and passengers; I want to be in the sky within thirty of receiving the haul. The deck on the ramp knows to flag me when they show. ‘Sides, doubtful Badger will make an appearance. He only cares about one thing--” That’s when a crackly comm could be heard from the bridge, just a few paces away from them.

“Cap’n,” Abby keyed the mic, “cargo bay. Yah wanted tah know when them last crates showed up.”

“Right on queue,” the captain said to his first mate. Scooping up Lucky from his shoulder, Cal unceremoniously deposited him on Rex’s shoulder. “I wanna be nose up in fifteen,” he called over his shoulder. With that Captain Strand disappeared through the porthole to the cargo bay below.

Over the top Zombie RP

Isaac jerked away from the opening, putting the machete between him and the anchored zombie. "There's one up here!" he called down to Morgan. "It's chained to something." His eyes scanned the room and took in the various sundries. This was either the final resting place for a prepper, or a tomb for a loved one. He crossed himself with his free hand.

The zombie's lolling eyes greedily watched Father Keller's movements, stretching out two massive bloody hands to try to take any hold. The iron collar around the zombie's neck pressed deeply into the tissue, collapsing the trachea as the determined mindless monster swiped at the area between them.

Keller pulled himself up into the attic proper and brandished the machete. It felt heavy in his hand, and he hoped it would be enough to end the zombie in one fell hit. Raising the machete with both hands, the preacher bore down on the zombie attempting to hit it straight in the head and crush those ballooning eyes.