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Once Upon a Summer (IC) Superpowers/Open

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The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Once Upon a Summer (IC) Superpowers/Open

Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Sun Oct 13, 2019 4:12 pm



It was one of those early days of summer, where the sun was shining bright and hot, but the ocean had not quite heated up yet, resulting a pleasant cool down by the shore. That didn’t imply that the water ever got warm, but it got warmer that it’s present state. Nate vaguely remembered some science teacher talking about how the gulf stream simply passed the state by on it’s trip north, giving it it’s historically cold waters. A little similar to how everyone else seemed to pass by Maine as a state. The Forgotten Territory. You knew something was a little funky when your most famous resident was Stephen King.

Nate wiped some sweat from his brow and reached into his toolbox for a small wrench. Engines were tricky things. Nate liked to think of them like dogs. Sometimes they would stop doing what you want and then you had to try various treats to get them going again. The small motorboat wasn’t much, but the hull had only cost him a kit car he had restored, and the engine was his pride and joy. He had taken an older piece of scrap from the junkyard and fixed it up into an unwiedly beast. The thing roared like an angry giant and seemed to choke the world on exhaust when it was running, and Nate would have it no other way.

Using the wrench to tighten a tube, Nate turned around and stuck his head under the boat’s console. Reaching up, he began to fiddle with a few electronics, making sure that they were all in tight. Making sure the engine had gas and oil in it, Nate held his breath, and turned the key. At first the machine made only a few sputtering noises, before it came screaming to life. Smiling a bit to himself, Nate wiped his greasy hands on his grey tank top. Pushing his hair back from his head, Nate leaned back in the pilot’s chair of the boat, and reached into a small compartment of his tool box, taking out a handwrapped smoke of some kind. Lighting the stick with an old school lighter he produced from his back pocket, he watched the sky and enjoyed his handiwork for a solid few minutes. The engine purred in neutral behind him, boats floated in the harbor around the dock, rocking slightly in the breeze blowing over the large barrier island that separated the cove from the Atlantic Ocean.

Nate’s mom had always called the island by it’s old name, but Nate just used the English phrase for it. “Dreadroost.” Not a pleasant name, but accurate none the less. The tall pines that had long provided shelter and nesting for various seabirds and raptors towered over the cliffs that made up the island’s shores, giving it a uniquely forboding feel. Nate had only been on the Island a few times, and each time he never could shake the feeling that something was watching him. It was more of a Vaycay spot anyways, if only for the fact that Townies relied far too heavily on their boats for income to try landing on any of Dreadroost’s rocky and wavy beaches, and Nate was an oddity among the Outsiders for having a boat. That was the order of things, Townies had the streets, the Vaycays had the waves, and the Outsiders had the woods. Though Nate found a sick joy in disrupting that order as much as possible. Case in point, his boat. It was loud, noxious, and, most importantly, much faster than the standard order boats that the Vaycay’s owned. It seemed to get under the skin of most of them at least. Case in point, he spotted a rather annoying Vaycay walking down the dock as the moment. Putting on a pair of sunglasses to hide his eyes, he took another long hit of his smoke, and breathed a large cloud.

Jackie Coldwell has been having a good day so far. She had managed to avoid the discovery of any new “vibers” as she had taken to calling anyone who gave her a strong vibe. Her morning run had gone without incident, she had had a good conversation with that hot townie boy who bussed at the diner, and she had even put the finishing touches on a summer work essay. She had the day off from lifeguarding at the Yacht Club pool, and she didn’t have a care in the world. So, she had decided to reward her luck by taking the afternoon off, and having a nice sunbath by her families pool. Coldwell Manor was a large estate dating back to the Gilded Age, and sat above most of the town atop a large hill referred to by most as the Rock. Most of the manor was hidden away by a well maintained forest of pinetrees, but the pool, a more recent edition, peaked out of them, overlooking the harbor and even included a small set of a stairs and path to the road, to provide the Coldwell’s with easy access to the dock and their small fleet of boats that they set out in the harbor. Jackie rarely used it, instead preferring to ride around town on a small moped her father had gotten her when she was old enough to drive it on her own.

Today however was an exception. Her great day had been rather unceremoniously interrupted by a sound that was similar to how she imagined the world tearing in half might. Her previously beautiful view was interrupted by a large cloud of almost bluish smoke. Wrapping her towel around her waist as a sort of skirt, Jackie quickly descended the path to go tell off someone for… well she wasn’t sure, but she could probably find something illegal they were doing. Walking down the ramp onto the actually floating part of the dock, she found the offender. It was that Outsider that always worked on the… what did they called it… the Road Warrior team during the races. Nathan she thought his name was. And he was smoking… was that weed? Oooh, that was the last straw. Huffing down the dock, she pointed at him and said “Nathan right?! What do you think you’re doing!?”

Nate lowered his glasses a smidge, looking at the Vaycay who had clearly just been poolside and said “Please, you can call me Nate. And quite clearly, I was working on my boat. Now I’m enjoying this public space.”

“It’s you can only be on this dock for thirty minutes at a time you know?”

“I know, I pay for my mooring, don’t I? It’s only been twenty.”

“What do you plan on doing now that your boat is fixed then? I hope it isn’t smoking something illegal.”

“Not illegal. I have diagnosed anxiety, and I’ll be honest here, you’re raising it.”

“… Don’t you have a car to work on?”

“I do, but it can wait ten minutes. You want to wait here and chat with me for the rest of those, Coldwell.”

Jackie froze up, having not expected Nathan to know her name. Crossing her arms and trying to think of something to say back, she turned and walked back up the dock, not giving it any second thoughts. Nate called out as she left “I guess I’ll see you at that Beckward girl’s party tonight then!”

As she crossed the parking lot back towards her house, she noticed an odd pair coming down the path. Her Aunt Evie and a man in a black suit. The man had pure white hair, but besides that did not seem too old. Stopping to let them pass, Jackie offered a brief hello to her aunt. Her aunt smiled and said “Ah, Jackie, I was wondering where you had run off to. Niece, this is Mr. Richard Callway, an old classmate of mine from Yale. Richard, this is my niece Jackie, she’s Douglas’s daughter.”

Callway extended his hand and in a typical fashion said “A pleasure Jackie. You look just like your aunt back in our college days.”

Evie lightly slapped him across the shoulder and said “You really must stop flattering every person who crosses your path Richard. In any case, Richard here works with a government contractor finally assessing that base on the outskirts of town. He remembered me metioning Ribe a while back and called me to chat and walk.”

Jackie nodded, shaking Callway’s hand. Like most people, he gave off the empty vibe of a powerless person, though it wasn’t unexpected. Callway smirked and said “Your aunt’s just buttering me up so she can get the inside scoop on the land sale. Sorry to disappoint you Evie, but I have reason to believe that McSidden’s won’t be closing any time soon. Now, which yacht did you say was yours again?”

Jackie took the opportunity to escape the conversation. Like that, a perfectly good day had been ruined.
Last edited by The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune on Sun Oct 13, 2019 4:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Endem
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Founded: Aug 19, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Endem » Sun Oct 13, 2019 5:02 pm

Stephen Clark

tap, tap, tap the sound of a finger being gently pressed against the glass as the water inside bubbled and a pill dissolving in it, Stephen was in his kitchen, having a small hangover, as usual during vacation time when he needed to hold up his persona of Partyier Extraordinaire, at least for a month or two when people he knew would go back to their residences back on the west, and he, would stay here for Autumn and go visit his parents during December, the pill finally dissolved and his hand slowly lifted the glass, his lips felt the chilly surface of the glass and his throat felt the water jampacked with electrolytes or whatever it was in those pills go down it.

As he walked upstairs to the room he usually kept under a lock, he got there and saw the yet unfinished dress on the table and a finished piece of clothing on the mannequin "I forgot to take this off you" he said to the mannequin and started to take the clothing of it, it had a symbol of the sun on it back with shapes meaning to imitate those of rays of sun going to all directions creeping over to the front stopping on shoulder, that's the coat at least, and that's when the hand of it fell on the floor, "shit" Stephen quietly said to himself as he picked the hand up and tried to get it back, and then the head gave out, "That f*cker sold me a faulty one..." He said to himself "Eh, there isn't any shop with mannequins in Ribe, gotta by it on the net" he then finished the work he started and walked over to a laptop standing on the desk to a sewing machine and the yet unfinished dress "Let's see, here's one, seems like it would be of good quality, but, how much do I need to wait... Uh, a week, damn it, I either need to find a live model or take a week-long break, good thing the male mannequin didn't break, but, I already finished all the projects designed for males, theoretically, I could work on some unisex stuff, eh, no, I guess I'll restock and take that break"

He left his house, his hair tied on the back of his head as usual, clothes of his own design on him, nothing special seemed about this day, and he knew only one place to get some of the resources he needs to continue his work in this town, the route took him near the Yacht club, where he started to walk slightly faster, he accidentally brushed against some girl going the opposite way, Caldwell? Colwell? Something like that, Stephen didn't remember her name and barely remembered her surname he didn't even remember where he learned once from, a quick sorry and he was on his way again.
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Talchyon
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Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Talchyon » Sun Oct 13, 2019 7:01 pm

Ribe General Store
Freddy Allen


Like most teenagers who had to wake up to alarms for work in the summer, the youngest employee of the Ribe General Store was tired. True, the alarm had been set for 7:35 in the morning. For any other youth, that might be reason enough. But for Freddy Allen, there was another reason. And that reason was fear.

It wouldn't have mattered for his work if he had been tired or not. In fact, he had been stifling yawns all morning. But that was of no consequence at all for Freddy. There was no possible chance of getting fired, because his parents, Gary and Claudia Allen, were the owners and operators of the small store. It was a mom and pop store run by Mom and Pop, and that meant that Mom and Pop wanted their son to be productive. Surely they noticed his exhaustion. Freddy had just mumbled something about not getting a good night's sleep the night before. They hadn't pressed. He wished he could tell them. But who just sits and tells their parents things they don't expect - things that don't even make sense to you? They would be weird. He had no idea how they would react if he told them what he saw in the mirror that morning, nor did he have any desire to find out.

Freddy looked at the clock on the wall. Only 2 hours had gone since he started. He felt like the minutes had been hours. Already he had swept the floor and cleaned the bathrooms. Today the heavy teenager welcomed the drudgery. Better to have his mind occupied by menial tasks then have to think. Because when he began to think about this morning, he couldn't help but freak out. The problem was it was a slow day at the store. Most everyone else was out having fun or doing something. There had been a few customers - such as Mr. Lombard who always is buying supplies and talking about new home projects he's planning, even though Freddy wondered how many of them had ever been finished. But for the most part, the store was empty and the customers were staying away. While he welcomed the drudgery of working, Freddy didn't really want to be around people right now. Catch-22.

The night before, Freddy had tossed and turned in his sleep. It had to have been a bad dream, the kind that grips you while you are in the thick of it, but one that evaporates when you wake up dripping in sweat. The anxiety, the panic, whatever it had been, Freddy had no clue what it had been about when he had woken. The only thing was, he was freaked. The shadows of early morning were no comfort. He felt different. His back didn't exactly hurt, but he was lying on it different, as if his back was somehow tilting his head back at a steeper angle than normal. Freddy had no idea what that meant, and it barely registered in his consciousness. He had practically fallen out of bed, only to catch himself surprisingly for that hour in the morning. Something had just tripped him up getting out as normal. Running his fingers through his hair, he pulled back when fingernails that had never been sharp somehow scratched at his head in a way they never had. And when he stumbled to the bathroom to get some water, he caught a glance at himself in the mirror and about lost it. For one thing, he looked thinner. Stronger. But kind of sickly too. He couldn't figure it out, but it was as if in the span of one night Freddy had matured 3 years. As if he was a senior and not a freshman. But a senior with the flu, despite feeling healthier than he ever had.

And then, while he was trying to figure out whatever that meant, he really freaked out. For before his eyes, as he was thinking about the way his reflection looked just last night, Freddy's muscles deflated, his belly increased, his medium chocolate-colored skin came back to normal. He was back to himself, only with his eyes open all the way and his jaw dropped. It was as if someone else had stood there looking in the mirror until Freddy had caught the intruder, and then he had gone and Freddy was back. But Freddy had never left, if that made any sense. Which, nothing from that night or morning had so far.

How does one exactly go and tell your parents that you think you're going insane? Freddy had no idea. There was always the slim hope that somehow this would go away and it would turn out to be some weird dream-within-a-dream. But if that wasn't the case, and if something weird was happening to him, talking to his parents would only freak them out too. Freddy was hoping he wouldn't have to have that conversation this morning. Or ever.

Yawning, Freddy saw the store's door open, and a customer came in. One he recognized. Kind of.
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Union Princes
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Founded: Nov 02, 2017
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Union Princes » Sun Oct 13, 2019 9:06 pm

Szarlota Raczkowska
Ribe General Store


“Here we are, boys!” a tall, lanky, and leather-wearing young adult announced as stepped out of his homemade hot-rod. The vehicle was plastered with flame design, totenkopfs, and chrome. Heavy metal music was turned up to obnoxious levels as it blasted through the open doors. How he didn’t suffer from hearing damage was a mystery. Regardless, three more doors opened and closed revealing three more compatriots with similar punk-ish clothing. The chains on their necks and belts clinked under the sun while they walked towards the Ribe General Store. Behind them, another person was trailing them on a bicycle.

The gang leader whipped his head around to see a familiar mask following him. The makeup shows it all.

“How long were you following us?” he grunted.

“Long enough.” the person replied as she locked her bike at the bike rack near the wall.

“Szar, you know you didn’t have to pedal this way you know.” One of the Outsiders grinned, eyeing Szar’s body.

“I know.” the girl replied.

While the boys were decked out like edgelords, Szarlota was wearing her jester costume. Almost comical if it wasn’t so scandalous in this small town. Her long-sleeves shirt only covered her breasts and ended right there leaving her midriff was completely exposed at a full 360 degrees. Her jester pants was tight it hugged her thighs and legs. Her curves left nothing to the imagination because of the black and red colors. Her mask was the only thing that could be taken seriously.

“Whatever,” the leader rolled his eyes as he grabbed the door open in one mighty swing. A loud ringing from the bell notified the cashier of his new guests. “Let’s just get what we came here for.”

One by one, the Outsiders all funneled in and immediately went searching for the shelves. The neatly organized shelves were quickly turned upside down as the boys scoured the place looking for the items they seek. Szarlota made her way to cashier desk and leaned against it.

Poor Kid. Szarlota thought as she turned to face the attendant. Her mask doing no favors to calm his nerves.

“Hey…” she greeted while the rest of the Outsiders were making a nightmare of a mess. “Have I seen you before? In highschool?”
Last edited by Union Princes on Sun Oct 13, 2019 10:05 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Parcia
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Founded: Feb 11, 2016
Democratic Socialists

Postby Parcia » Mon Oct 14, 2019 1:05 am

"Yang"
Ribe woods



The Morning sun shown through the trees with a simple beauty that, even in his meditative state, he had to recognize and and appreciate. As he shifted stances, shifting his balance on the one foot to counter balance the slow, graceful movement. Then the air shifted, a smell assaulted his senses and his eyes snapped open. This sudden sensory shift broke his concentration and his balance shifted so much that he couldn't over correct it. Giving a silent gasp, he toppled over off the stump and landed square on his ass.

What in the 9 rings of hell... Something about him felt...off. He brought a hand up and watched as the strange phenomenon weaved its way through his fingers, his eyes narrowed in silent contemplation of what was happening. Then the ethereal wisp of what ever that was simply moved on, drifting off in to the wind like dust. Blinking, he got up and regained his footage, searching around the woods around him for any clue as to just what that was.

Shaking his head slightly, he got back on his perch upon the stump and began his set again. Wanting to try something, he took his staff and planted it in to the stump and rather carefully ascended its length until, with some effort, he Centered his palm on the end and shifted his weight to settle on to the staff. If one were to come upon him, they would see him balancing on the end of the staff some feet up in the air, clad in nothing but his jeans, tank top, and socks.
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
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Ormata
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Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Ormata » Mon Oct 14, 2019 2:37 am

Chloe Gibson
121 Main St, Ribe, ME


It was the afternoon. It was the morning.

The warmth of her bed was a blissful heaven, a little fortress from which anything and everything dissipated into nothing at all, and Chloe huddled just a little deeper into the blankets. Mink was a glorious thing, a beautiful thing, and yet it was definitely not night. Summer was one of those few little times when the whole entire world could just become a blur with nothing but relaxed days, less snow, and far far more sun, yet you can’t really stay inside for all day. The rays of light entering into the room said just as much. One arm reached out, grasping for the alarm clock to check on it. Yeah, it was time to get up. Hundred percent, it was time to get up. Yawning, Chloe clamored out from her bed slowly, taking the short walk to the shower.

She let the warmth wash over her, sighing as steam rose up to meet the windows, fog already clouding over them. The light pit-pat of rain on the tall little thing already signaled that the weather was relatively poor outside, though not too bad. It was just a spitting, one could say, not raining at all. It wasn’t the sort of thing that signaled more rain to come. More steam rose up as she washed herself, thinking the day over. On one hand, lounging around inside sounded appealing. On the other hand...it’d been a day since she’d last gone out to play, to practice. Chloe needed to find a routine for it, she told herself, something that she’d continue on doing to get a better hold of...whatever sort of thing it was.

Scratching at the door told her the cat was awake, too, the little knocks down below the knees. The wheels in her mind started to turn, jump-started by the steam probably. Chloe hadn’t yet heard her parents down below, the TV playing some show from the 30s or cartoons, the oven cooking some mysterious and most definitely delicious food from mom. They must’ve gone out. That or they were taking a nap. Turning the shower off, she dried off and heard the gentle pitter-pat of the cat, pawing off to go and cause some mischief or some-such. They had a Maine Coon, ironic because the cat had never been to Maine before they’d moved-up some years before, named Whiskers. Not a creative name, she knew, but then again they hadn’t been the one to name her. Rescues were like that. Cat must’ve ran off.

Chloe got dressed, deciding that she really should go out. Going out the door and into the dining room, all that could be found of her parents was a little note. ‘Went out shopping, be back before 3’. Checking the clock again, it was 11. Well, that’s good at least. She took her time with “breakfast”, the coffee pot still running from her parents and just enough in to make a cup. A little bit of dry toast and some microwaved bacon and Chloe was set for the whole day ahead of her. Running back inside, she changed out into what was more needed for the day; some swimwear underneath her usual clothes helped things out a lot, especially while practicing. The spray kept on Chloe’s clothing, so...she needed something easily washable without any suspicion. Saying she went out swimming, that worked. Writing a little note for her parents, saying as much, that was that.

Leaving the house, it was really only a short walk out to the forest before she got out far enough that no-one would bother her. Changing out, her sat down, concentrating on the whole of it. It was a weird aspect, a weird whole thing, sort of like flexing her muscles but a different set, a different movement. She felt that release, a steady thing as the cloud formed about her, drifting away. Chloe tried to only do it so much, to not let loose the whole of the cloud and instead only go halfway, trying to stop it mid-release. Sighing, she let loose another cloud, relaxing her muscles, closing her eyes.

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Parcia
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Founded: Feb 11, 2016
Democratic Socialists

Postby Parcia » Mon Oct 14, 2019 3:01 am

Yang


He had been in that same position for...several hours, by his own guess. In his year away from his friends at the temple he had made leaps and bounds in his meditation sessions, as well as his self discipline. While he had taken the Vow of Silence, he had not chosen to take the vow of fasting or charity, simply seeing that those two particular sacraments would greatly hinder his ability to survive out in the world, thus was the reason he never carried a donation bowl, nor had ever prevented him self from using money to purchase supplies and the like.

His mind had been drifting in the tranquil sea of inner contemplation when his nose caught the first whiff of the cloud. It immediately set off alarms in his mind and his mind was ripped back in to the plane of reality when it hit him full force. Again his eyes snapped open, only for him to greatly regret that action as the cloud set his eyes and his entire face ablaze with a burning pain. Giving a gasp of surprise, he tumbled from his perch on the staff and fell to the ground with a thud for the second time in the day.

Working more so on muscle memory then though, he reached for his pack blindly, only seeing blurry images among the burning haze and scrambled for the canteen that was strapped to it. Frantically unscrewing the cap he tilted his head back and poured the contents on to his face, letting out a sigh of relief at the cooling sensation as it began to flush his eyes and nose clear. Lowering the canteen and his face, he began to peer around, scanning the bush for who ever decided to prank him with OC spray. While his vision wasn't as bad, and he could begin to breath again, his face and much of his neck and shoulders burned something fierce. It took a good portion of his own willpower not to strip naked and dive in to a creek, and his hands shook with the concentration needed to keep him self steady.

Getting up shakily he reached for his staff and wrenched it free of the stump, hitting it twice and attempting to call out who ever was seemingly messing with him.
Last edited by Parcia on Tue Oct 15, 2019 5:43 am, edited 3 times in total.
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
Right leaning Centrist from Florida No I am not The Floridaman...hes my uncle. Other then that dont @ me about politics, im leaving that
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Talchyon
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Founded: May 05, 2016
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Talchyon » Mon Oct 14, 2019 10:31 am

Ribe General Store
Freddy Allen (townie)


The moment the gang of Outsiders came through the door, Freddy knew there was going to be trouble. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the gang members knock over cans, break signs, spill drinks and so much more. His dad was going to be pissed!

Union Princes wrote:Szarlota Raczkowska
Ribe General Store


“Here we are, boys!” a tall, lanky, and leather-wearing young adult announced as stepped out of his homemade hot-rod. The vehicle was plastered with flame design, totenkopfs, and chrome. Heavy metal music was turned up to obnoxious levels as it blasted through the open doors. How he didn’t suffer from hearing damage was a mystery. Regardless, three more doors opened and closed revealing three more compatriots with similar punk-ish clothing. The chains on their necks and belts clinked under the sun while they walked towards the Ribe General Store. Behind them, another person was trailing them on a bicycle.

The gang leader whipped his head around to see a familiar mask following him. The makeup shows it all.

“How long were you following us?” he grunted.

“Long enough.” the person replied as she locked her bike at the bike rack near the wall.

“Szar, you know you didn’t have to pedal this way you know.” One of the Outsiders grinned, eyeing Szar’s body.

“I know.” the girl replied.

While the boys were decked out like edgelords, Szarlota was wearing her jester costume. Almost comical if it wasn’t so scandalous in this small town. Her long-sleeves shirt only covered her breasts and ended right there leaving her midriff was completely exposed at a full 360 degrees. Her jester pants was tight it hugged her thighs and legs. Her curves left nothing to the imagination because of the black and red colors. Her mask was the only thing that could be taken seriously.

“Whatever,” the leader rolled his eyes as he grabbed the door open in one mighty swing. A loud ringing from the bell notified the cashier of his new guests. “Let’s just get what we came here for.”

One by one, the Outsiders all funneled in and immediately went searching for the shelves. The neatly organized shelves were quickly turned upside down as the boys scoured the place looking for the items they seek. Szarlota made her way to cashier desk and leaned against it.

Poor Kid. Szarlota thought as she turned to face the attendant. Her mask doing no favors to calm his nerves.

“Hey…” she greeted while the rest of the Outsiders were making a nightmare of a mess. “Have I seen you before? In highschool?”


Partly ignoring the girl (partly because of being uncomfortable around so much bare skin on a girl), Freddy mumbled something like, "Um... I dunno. You might have been in my English class maybe." If he put his mind to it and saw her without her mask or odd clothing, he might recognize her better. But this was not the time for conversation. So Freddy turned his attention to the gang causing the damage as he yelled out, "Guys, don't do that! Guys! I'm gonna get in trouble! Come on, guys!"

He kind of froze in that moment. While some kind of authority figure was needed, these gang members were all older than him. And he was the only one here, due to Dad having to step out for awhile to the bank and post office, and Mom having a doctor's appointment that morning. Freddy knew he could confront them, but what would that help? Freddy remembered something his dad said once before, that it's better for the store to be robbed, than to have any of them in the hospital. Things can be replaced. People can't. Dad always had good advice like that. As well as like when he said if you're working at the cashier spot and there's trouble, don't handle it yourself. Call the police.

So, that's what Freddy did. He pushed the emergency button beneath the counter that did nothing in the store itself, but sent an alarm to city hall so the police station could come.

Meanwhile, he ignored the girl. What a day.
What would you do if Hong Kong somehow transported itself to right outside a small town in Minnesota? What would you do if an alien warlord was on the way? What would you do if you were a superhero, but only with dorky, lame D-level powers?

You would fit right in with the current IC of the long-running RP comedy series: The Infinites!

Join me for: The Infinites - INFINITE GAUNTLET (OOC) - and Check out the IC page here!

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Miekzhemy
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Founded: Sep 24, 2014
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Miekzhemy » Mon Oct 14, 2019 3:32 pm

Yacht Club
Bridget Reeves


Ah, Ribe's famed Yacht Club - a beacon of the town's culture, heritage, and most of all, wealth. With its own dock to showcase the boats, a bocce and croquet court, and some of the finer, more expensive dining, it was easy to tell that this place catered to the desires of much of the town's richer and more influential figures. Night after night was the Club packed with people to enjoy the various social events being held throughout the weekdays and weekends. And now that summer was in bloom, these perks extended to their children as well.

And by God, was it a nightmare...

A young woman leaned against the back wall of the building, just between the back door and a dumpster. Her long black hair was tied up in twintails, the bangs held parted to one side with a single clip. Her uniform was that of a waitress. A white dress shirt with a tie, coupled with an uncomfortable black vest that often hugged her midriff far too tightly. And like the vest, the skirt ending halfway down her thighs exacerbated whatever curves she thought she had. She never considered herself a curvaceous girl, but it was painfully obvious the uniform was designed for that. The rest of her legs were covered by black tights, and ended with a pair of flat-bottomed dress shoes. All-in-all, it was eye-catching, uncomfortable, and cost her much of her own pay to get fitted for. And she hated every minute spent wearing the damn thing.

A long coat was draped over her for warmth as she stood outside, one hand in its pocket, and a cigarette in the other. She quietly watched the bustling activity at some of the local docks, occasionally drowned out by the afternoon traffic cruising down the street. It was certainly more peaceful than a New York street corner. Being able to hear herself think? It felt almost tranquil. Or maybe it was the high. She took a look at her watch: half past noon.

Bridget took a final drag of the cigarette, put it out against the dumpster, and flicked it onto the asphalt before heading back inside. The bar wasn't going to tend itself.
Last edited by Miekzhemy on Mon Oct 14, 2019 3:35 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I'm just a guy that likes playing video games, drawing, acting/musical theatre, piano, rp, and impersonating people with a spunky disposition.

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Union Princes
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1410
Founded: Nov 02, 2017
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Union Princes » Mon Oct 14, 2019 6:53 pm

Szarlota Raczkowska
Ribe General Store


“We got everything?” the gang leader said to his goons.

“Hell yeah, man!” replied one of his friends. In his arms was bands of duct tape, Red Bulls, and paint spray. “Can’t wait to get back to the Scrapyard!”

While ignoring the pleas of Freddy, the Outsiders proceed to gather whatever materials and tools that could help them achieve their goals in the wreckage. Screws, paint, batteries, pliers, whatnot have been selected as items for purchase. They then whipped out their wallets and made their way over to the cashier. Before they could say anything, a loud siren can be heard in the distance.

“What the-” exclaimed one of the Outsiders looking outside for the source of the alarms. “Is that the cops?”

“Aw, hell!” cursed the Gang leader, turning back towards Freddy. “You little weasel! Dare to ruin our fun day?”

Szarlota scooched away from the counter while the Outsider reached over the desk and grabbed Freddy by his shirt collar. The rest of the boys dropped their items and huddled around the cashier desk. They ignored the jester girl sliding away to give them some distance

“Now what to do with you?!” he snorted angrily, glaring straight into Freddy’s eyes. “Hey Szar? Do you know who this rat is?”

No reponse.

“Szar?!” he called out sarcastically. “Hey girl?”

The gang leader diverted his eyes for a second to look for Szarlota and the Outsiders looked to where she was last standing. They only saw a mirage of her that quickly disappeared before their very eyes. For a brief moment, they just stared at the spot blankly before the ringing of the door caused them to turn their heads around.

They saw the cop enter the store glaring straight at the Outsiders. The officer was not amused at all.

“Uhhhh…” pondered one of the Outsiders as the gang leader let go of Freddy and dusted the poor boy’s shoulders. “We can explain.”
Last edited by Union Princes on Mon Oct 14, 2019 8:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
There is no such thing as peace, only truce between wars

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The Japanese Americans
Envoy
 
Posts: 217
Founded: Jun 24, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Japanese Americans » Mon Oct 14, 2019 8:26 pm

Lee
Devin's Summer Home

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep beep. Beep be- click. This was the sound Lee woke up to. He cracked open his eyes and halfheartedly glared at his blue, box of an alarm clock. What had he set it to again? 7:55, right. Well, time to ge- Beep. Beep, Be- slam! Lee had slammed his hand on the snooze button this time. It was 8 now. Definitely time to get up. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. The alarm was going to go off again soon, so he turned it off. His mind had burned the sleep away by now, anyways. Time to get dressed. He slid off the bed and walked over to the dresser. Shirt, socks, pants, shoes. Hmmm, probably shouldn't wear a jacket, but eh, screw it. He pulled it all on. Then he checked himself in the mirror. Tan T-shirt, dark blue sweatpants, light blue jacket, and black running shoes. Good enough.

He walked out of his bedroom and downstairs to the kitchen. He was alone this summer. Last year Emma was with him. He opened the pantry and grabbed a Pop-Tart. He shut the pantry door and opened the package. Frosted blueberry, yum. He opened the fridge and poured a glass of milk. Then he walked into the living room and plopped down onto the couch. He thought about turning the TV on, but before he even reached for the remote, it turned on seemingly by itself. Odd. Maybe Devin had a sensor put on it, like the lights. After flicking through the interesting channels for several of hours, he decided it would be good for him to walk around for a bit. He got up off the couch and went to turn the TV off when it turned off by itself. Again, odd. He grabbed his wallet and keys off the table by the front door, and, after some internal debate, grabbed his pocketknife. There was no telling when one of those Outsiders would go crazy enough to attack someone. Though they do provide some good cannabis. He also backtracked into the living room and undocked his fully charged Nintendo Switch. Entertainment was necessary for the survival of sanity. He opened the door and walked out.

The sun was almost blindingly bright compared to the artificial lights in the house. He immediately felt the temperature difference from the air conditioned environment of the house. It had nothing on Oklahoma summers, though. He shut the door behind him and locked it with his keys. Then he walked around town, until he came upon the town's general store. There was a cop car in front of it, with its siren still blaring. He hoped the kid and his parents inside were okay. He didn't know any of their names, but he still hoped they were fine.

He walked over to the cop car and didn't spot the police officer. They were probably inside. The sirens were starting to get annoying. He stood its blaring until he reached the point where he wished for it to shut up, for it to turn off. And the siren suddenly turned off. There were no other explanations. He had somehow turned the siren off without touching it. And as if a blindfold had been lifted from his eyes, he became aware of the electronic devices around him.
I'm an autistic 15 year old who has more of a vocabulary bank than my entire grade. Not combined, of course. I have already lost hope in this generation even though I'm part of it.

Name: Lee
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Level: 11
Total HP: 79
Total MP: 399.38
Power: 14
Strength: 12
Luck: 9
Intelligence: 71
Wisdom: 10
Active Skills: Mana Arrows, Mana Bomb, Weapon Charge, Energy Slice, Slice and Dice, Observation, Hard Hit, Spinning Mana Bomb, Spinning Mana Arrows, and Idiotic Acts

Call me JA. It's easier than typing out Japanese Americans.

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The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune
Minister
 
Posts: 2996
Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune » Tue Oct 15, 2019 6:26 pm

Nate

Placing the engine cover back on to the device, Nate guided the boat away from the dock, and back to it's mooring. Tying the vessel on, Nate began his row back to the dock. Nate struck a lean muscular figure, mostly developed from heavy lifiting at the garage, and the amount of rowing he subjected himself to in the summer. While other kids who wanted to stay in shape might jog or bike around town, Nate rowed. There was something peaceful about a morning row inside the guarded straights that surrounded Ribe.

Shrugging his shoulders as he tied his rowboat to the dock, Nate grabbed his jacket and hoodie from where he had hung it on a railing, and put it back on. The jacket had been one of the few things he had gotten from his father. A simple jean jacket with the garage's old name embroidered on the back of it, Nate had taken the arms off of it to make it all weather, and often wore it over a simple hoodie. Climbing up the dock, he took a moment in the parking lot to sort out his tools and plce them in the bed of his truck, an older ford that Nate had fixed up himself. It was one of the few cars that Nate had ever restored that wasn't designed for racing and the like, and yet it was also what he considered to be his finest work. The familiar grumble of it's roulette game of an engine came from under the hood, before the car rolled over. Smiling as he pulled out of the lot, Nate decided he could go for a snack before heading to the scrapyard to work on his latest creation.

Pulling his car up to the general store, Nate was a little suprised to see one of the town's rare police cruisers in front of it. Though taxes from Vaycay's enabled Ribe to have 3 or 4 dedicated officers at any given point, most law enforcement was handled by the county sheriff, as most of the time crime in Ribe involved a junkie who killed someone for their crack and then ran to hide in the woods nearby. Parking the truck, Nate slid out of it, shutting the door behind him. Seeing a Vaycay kid who occaisonally bought weed off the Outsiders because they were too young to buy from an actual dispenser crouching by the police car, Nate offered a curt nod before entering the store.

Inside he found three of the dipshits who hung out at the scrapyard and were too young to get that graffiti and drugs did not a hardened criminal make. Unfortunately he also recognized the officer dealing with them. Chief Dean as most knew him was the captain of the small police force in town, a hard man who acted more like a dissapointed father to those he arrested than like a police officer. He was highly disdainful towards the outsiders and many a party was broken up by him after he personally filed the noise complaint. More important, Dean Evans was the sole surviving blood relative Nate had on his dad's side. Dean had never married, and he had had no children, leaving it on Nate to continue the family line, a responsibility that Nate hated having and Dean hated him for "squandering with those shitheads in the Scrapyard." His uncle had resented him ever since he had hit his tweens, and though he often supported Nate and his mom out of loyalty to his little brother, Dean had no qualms about showing his dissapointment in his nephew.

"I'm sure you can runt. Let's see, Lerman, Dennis, and Shaw. I'm sure your parents would be real proud of you spending your summer locked up in the state pen for petty crimes. Couldn't you be doing something useful with your lives, like helping on your father's boats, or working at the yacht club? Hell, I'm sure all three of you are still young enough to take a few sailing lessons." The Chief's voice rumbled as he removed a small pad from his belt and began to take notes. Nate grabbed the snacks he was looking for and brought them to the register. At first, he was simply going to wait for his uncle to be finished before he let out a small sigh. He was going to regret this.

"Uncle wait." The Chief looked up from his pad at Nate before shaking his head.

"Nathan, please don't get involved here."

Nate likewise shook his head and said "You seriously can't be arresting these guys for what I assume is minor shit. I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding. Right fellas?"

The three outsiders shook their heads like a pack of nervous dogs. The Chief shook his head again and said "If I catch any one of you, and that includes you nephew, up to anything in the next few weeks, no mercy. And Nathan, I'm having a long chat with your mom about this one." With nay a word more, the Chief left the gas station.

Making sure his uncle had driven off, Nate slapped the leader of the three across the face and said "Get the hell out of here and out of my sight. Go do a tune up or some shit, I don't care." Sliding the materials away from the center of the counter, Nate put his snacks in the middle and said to Freddy "How much is this going to run me?"

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The Japanese Americans
Envoy
 
Posts: 217
Founded: Jun 24, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Japanese Americans » Tue Oct 15, 2019 7:48 pm

The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune wrote:Nate

Pulling his car up to the general store, Nate was a little suprised to see one of the town's rare police cruisers in front of it. Though taxes from Vaycay's enabled Ribe to have 3 or 4 dedicated officers at any given point, most law enforcement was handled by the county sheriff, as most of the time crime in Ribe involved a junkie who killed someone for their crack and then ran to hide in the woods nearby. Parking the truck, Nate slid out of it, shutting the door behind him. Seeing a Vaycay kid who occaisonally bought weed off the Outsiders because they were too young to buy from an actual dispenser crouching by the police car, Nate offered a curt nod before entering the store.


Lee numbly nodded back, not really even looking at the person. He crouched there for a few moments before realizing that he should get out of there before the officer came out and wondered why he was there. But then he had a burst of mischievous thoughts. He could fuck around with the sirens for a bit. Then he shook his head, as if trying to shake off the thoughts like a dog shaking water off. He could experiment with his apparent technopathy later. With his Switch. He wondered when he got this ability. Then he suddenly remembered that things had been turning off and on around him for about a week when he wanted it to. He remembered a time that he had woken up feeling the electronics around him, but his ignorance had blocked it out. There had been no excuse for the police siren shutting off, so it made him realize his power. And allowed him to sense the electronics around him again. He saw someone start to walk out of the store, so he stood up and walked into the nearest alley to get out of sight.
I'm an autistic 15 year old who has more of a vocabulary bank than my entire grade. Not combined, of course. I have already lost hope in this generation even though I'm part of it.

Name: Lee
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Level: 11
Total HP: 79
Total MP: 399.38
Power: 14
Strength: 12
Luck: 9
Intelligence: 71
Wisdom: 10
Active Skills: Mana Arrows, Mana Bomb, Weapon Charge, Energy Slice, Slice and Dice, Observation, Hard Hit, Spinning Mana Bomb, Spinning Mana Arrows, and Idiotic Acts

Call me JA. It's easier than typing out Japanese Americans.

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Ormata
Senator
 
Posts: 4233
Founded: Jun 30, 2016
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Ormata » Tue Oct 15, 2019 7:51 pm

Chloe Gibson
Ribe Forest, Ribe, ME


Getting up shakily he reached for his staff and wrenched it free of the stump, hitting it twice and attempting to call out who ever was seemingly messing with him.


In the forest, a lot of stuff make thumping noises, the sounds of something hard hitting yielding soil. In the forest, a lot of things also fell down from a good enough height, but then again...Chloe’s head whipped-around to the noises, to the falls and thumps. Something was out there...something that was most definitely alive, too. At least, that’s what her imagination told her. People didn’t ever think the creak of floorboards was merely the floorboards unless they didn’t want to think of what else it could be. At least, that’s how people were if they hadn’t had the floor creak for a few months straight. Forests weren’t like that. You couldn’t get comfortable with a forest like you did with a home. They just...were.

Her back straightened up, the idea that it might be another person made usual thought towards maybe protecting herself against animals or something else that might be dangerous go right out the window. Chloe didn’t want to be seen...not in a swimsuit out in the middle of the forest. If she was, then people might talk and get ideas and question and maybe her parents might find out. That wasn’t any good. She crouched down, leaves crumpling underneath her socks, grabbing the pair of jeans and sliding them on. Yeah, she needed to get dressed that little part of her brain told her. She needed to get dressed, go back home, relax a little because it wasn’t as though she could make any more, practice any more. Chloe was scrambling, just a bit, moving with those jerky little motions, pauses made from uncertainties and fluidity killed in haste, fear driving the speed behind those little actions.

Sitting down on a log, she drew her shoes on, tucking the laces in. They could be tied later. Chloe would look up, every now and again, up and around and around to make sure that whoever it was hadn’t turned a corner, looked out beside a tree, some other nonsense, to make sure that whoever it was or might be hadn’t seen her. Sliding her T-shirt on, she stood up just a little too quickly...tripping on her own feet and falling face first forward. She paused there, in part just mentally sighing to herself.

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Sammuramat
Spokesperson
 
Posts: 129
Founded: May 05, 2016
Corporate Police State

Postby Sammuramat » Tue Oct 15, 2019 8:04 pm

Izzy soaks up the sunlight like a nymph, the kind that a Greek god would try to seduce. Her skin glows like golden sand freshly washed smooth by the waves. She raises her slender arms into the air like a ballerina, and stretches. She blinks, and sleep clears from her eyes, and in the mirror across from her bed, she watches herself tousle her hair. This is the typical morning routine. She checks the time. Ah. This is the typical early afternoon routine.

She had been reading about youths who were trying to recreate some ancient ritual, and found it somewhat interesting, though rather more effort than she would go to herself. She doesn’t like to go to too much effort during the summer; it’s the season for lazing about and drinking until your head goes empty. This is why her head is filled with nymphs and gods and exciting things, and why she is determined to return to routine quickly, so she doesn’t start to find her own life boring in comparison. On one of her desks is a pile of novels. She selects one carelessly, flips it open to a page she is familiar, and notes an observation she had had in her divinity-tinged dream.

Then she takes a quick shower, brushing coconut-scented conditioner through her hair, and exfoliates. She has a whole room set aside for showering. It fills up with hazy mist so she can barely see her hands in front of her. There is a patch of seriously dry skin on her back, which she sugar scrubs furiously until admitting defeat. She does not think too much about this. The roses in the vase on the windowsill are beginning to droop, and she is wondering what colour flowers to replace them with. When she is dry, she goes and stands with her back to the mirror, and tries to see her reflection, judge what’s up with her skin and how urgently she needs to see her dermatologist.

There is something on the small of her back that looks like a rough black rock.

Uh. What the fuck.

She scrapes at it with her fingernails. It’s like scraping a chalkboard. It clinks when she taps it. She tries to squeeze her nails under it, but there’s no gap. She twists like a gazelle trying to force a lion off her back, spinning, like if she just doesn’t see it in the mirror for a moment, she’ll turn back round again and it will be gone.
Okay. This is fine. She’s going to call her dermatologist if it doesn’t come off. She wonders if it’s some kind of really fucked up tick, or if she was really drunk at the beach and slept on a stone and now it’s kinda embedded. Or maybe all the stuff she’s been reading and all the stuff she’s been drinking has just gotten in her head and confused her. She isn’t sure. But she’ll be fine. It will go away.

Dammit, she was meant to be seeing Georgina at the beach today. And Georgina and her friends are always kinda fun to hang about with, cause they’re fun but not really in a threatening way, they’re rich but not really charismatic enough to take it anywhere, she’s pretty sure they’re all virgins. Izzy texts Georgina, and explains shortly that she can’t come today – girl problems, you know! A little bit of relatability, so Georgina won’t think Izzy thinks she’s too good for them.

Izzy slumps back into bed, and reads just to pass the time.




She wakes up the next day with a black rock on her wrist. She gazes at it dreamily for a moment.

It’s about the size of a watch face, matt but slightly iridescent. She turns it in the sunlight. It’s mostly flat, with a ridge running down the centre. She can’t see where it meets the skin. It covers where her veins usually are.

Some sort of blood thing, she wonders? And she feels tears in her eyes, and a quavering feeling like a very small bird in a very large storm, and she doesn’t know why.
Izzy lives alone here. Her parents work through the summer. Her brother used to come to Ribe every year, but now he has a wife and he’s busy with her. They’d met here, apparently. Her father had proposed to her mother here, too. The house has been in the family for decades but she doesn’t feel her family with her. She feels lonely but trapped. She tries not to think about it.

She stands in the window with the long white curtains billowing out beside her. She is still wearing the white shirt that she wears to sleep. When Izzy goes to shower, she finds black scales on her chest, too. She doesn’t touch them or look at them. She puts her white shirt back on, and wraps herself up in it, and drinks, and reads poetry.




On the third day, Izzy does her make up. Just enough foundation to look natural. Blush. Bronzer. She paints a few freckles on her nose. She braids her hair loosely, and puts on golden eyeshadow and fake lashes. She takes a selfie with her head tilted to the side, giving the camera a sultry look as if it’s a cute Eton boy. She takes several more. She uploads the best one to Instagram with a quote about learning to love oneself and meditating, and feels a lot better when her friends tell her that she’s a gorgeous queen.




By the fifth day, the scales have stopped growing.

Izzy stares at herself in the mirror. She does not feel much like a nymph any more. There are jagged black scales at the base of her throat, at the crooks of her elbows, at the pulse of her wrist, at the back of her knees. Her chest looks like a broken blackboard or an unfinished cremation.

She puts on a long sleeved black silk shirt, with little gold snake-shaped pins in the collar. And high-waisted jeans, which she tucks her shirt into so that her waist looks even more slender. She spends a while deciding how to wear her hair, and decides on a loose side braid. She does soft, subtle make up. It is a more serious look than she usually goes for in summer – really more of a look for autumn when she’s trying to look professional and have her tutors look at her with appreciation – but it hides… the things she’s trying not to think about, so it works.
Last edited by Sammuramat on Tue Oct 15, 2019 8:23 pm, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
Talchyon
Senator
 
Posts: 4661
Founded: May 05, 2016
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Talchyon » Tue Oct 15, 2019 8:37 pm

Ribe General Store
Freddy Allen ("townie")


The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune wrote:Nate

Placing the engine cover back on to the device, Nate guided the boat away from the dock, and back to it's mooring. Tying the vessel on, Nate began his row back to the dock. Nate struck a lean muscular figure, mostly developed from heavy lifiting at the garage, and the amount of rowing he subjected himself to in the summer. While other kids who wanted to stay in shape might jog or bike around town, Nate rowed. There was something peaceful about a morning row inside the guarded straights that surrounded Ribe.

Shrugging his shoulders as he tied his rowboat to the dock, Nate grabbed his jacket and hoodie from where he had hung it on a railing, and put it back on. The jacket had been one of the few things he had gotten from his father. A simple jean jacket with the garage's old name embroidered on the back of it, Nate had taken the arms off of it to make it all weather, and often wore it over a simple hoodie. Climbing up the dock, he took a moment in the parking lot to sort out his tools and plce them in the bed of his truck, an older ford that Nate had fixed up himself. It was one of the few cars that Nate had ever restored that wasn't designed for racing and the like, and yet it was also what he considered to be his finest work. The familiar grumble of it's roulette game of an engine came from under the hood, before the car rolled over. Smiling as he pulled out of the lot, Nate decided he could go for a snack before heading to the scrapyard to work on his latest creation.

Pulling his car up to the general store, Nate was a little suprised to see one of the town's rare police cruisers in front of it. Though taxes from Vaycay's enabled Ribe to have 3 or 4 dedicated officers at any given point, most law enforcement was handled by the county sheriff, as most of the time crime in Ribe involved a junkie who killed someone for their crack and then ran to hide in the woods nearby. Parking the truck, Nate slid out of it, shutting the door behind him. Seeing a Vaycay kid who occaisonally bought weed off the Outsiders because they were too young to buy from an actual dispenser crouching by the police car, Nate offered a curt nod before entering the store.

Inside he found three of the dipshits who hung out at the scrapyard and were too young to get that graffiti and drugs did not a hardened criminal make. Unfortunately he also recognized the officer dealing with them. Chief Dean as most knew him was the captain of the small police force in town, a hard man who acted more like a dissapointed father to those he arrested than like a police officer. He was highly disdainful towards the outsiders and many a party was broken up by him after he personally filed the noise complaint. More important, Dean Evans was the sole surviving blood relative Nate had on his dad's side. Dean had never married, and he had had no children, leaving it on Nate to continue the family line, a responsibility that Nate hated having and Dean hated him for "squandering with those shitheads in the Scrapyard." His uncle had resented him ever since he had hit his tweens, and though he often supported Nate and his mom out of loyalty to his little brother, Dean had no qualms about showing his dissapointment in his nephew.

"I'm sure you can runt. Let's see, Lerman, Dennis, and Shaw. I'm sure your parents would be real proud of you spending your summer locked up in the state pen for petty crimes. Couldn't you be doing something useful with your lives, like helping on your father's boats, or working at the yacht club? Hell, I'm sure all three of you are still young enough to take a few sailing lessons." The Chief's voice rumbled as he removed a small pad from his belt and began to take notes. Nate grabbed the snacks he was looking for and brought them to the register. At first, he was simply going to wait for his uncle to be finished before he let out a small sigh. He was going to regret this.

"Uncle wait." The Chief looked up from his pad at Nate before shaking his head.

"Nathan, please don't get involved here."

Nate likewise shook his head and said "You seriously can't be arresting these guys for what I assume is minor shit. I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding. Right fellas?"

The three outsiders shook their heads like a pack of nervous dogs. The Chief shook his head again and said "If I catch any one of you, and that includes you nephew, up to anything in the next few weeks, no mercy. And Nathan, I'm having a long chat with your mom about this one." With nay a word more, the Chief left the gas station.

Making sure his uncle had driven off, Nate slapped the leader of the three across the face and said "Get the hell out of here and out of my sight. Go do a tune up or some shit, I don't care." Sliding the materials away from the center of the counter, Nate put his snacks in the middle and said to Freddy "How much is this going to run me?"


Freddy was visibly relieved when Chief Dean took care of the troublemakers. He began to relax and breathe easier. The daunting task of having to clean up the mess notwithstanding, at least that issue was solved.

The customer was a known figure. Nathan - "Nate" - was something of a living urban legend to Freddy's class. Years back, there had been a fight in town as the story went. Townies vs. Outsiders. Nate was one of those fighting. And from the rumors he had heard, Nate had taken a knife to his chest and also injured the guy attacking him. It was one of those urban legends you hear about growing up, and how you don't want to mess with certain people in town. The other gang members who had acted so tough before had not wanted to challenge Nate, which meant the guy had clout.

And no doubt, could pulverize Freddy within moments if he wanted to. Major gulp.

The security cameras in the store weren't always on. Mostly, they were just for show. And they tended to face away from the counter to catch the customers' faces. That made identifying would-be criminals easier, at least as Dad's wisdom went. All of which is to say, nothing on film caught the transformation that began to overtake Freddy. But within moments, the fat 15 year-old had now morphed into the much stronger looking, toned, sickly looking senior. He had a slight tint of gold and grey to his black skin. It was the same visage who had frightened Freddy in the mirror that same morning. And Freddy had turned into him subconsciously. But he didn't realize it, even as Nate was watching the whole thing.

"Yeah, let me run that up." The new, stronger Freddy ran up the numbers in the cash register and told Nate, and not understanding why Nate was reacting like that.
What would you do if Hong Kong somehow transported itself to right outside a small town in Minnesota? What would you do if an alien warlord was on the way? What would you do if you were a superhero, but only with dorky, lame D-level powers?

You would fit right in with the current IC of the long-running RP comedy series: The Infinites!

Join me for: The Infinites - INFINITE GAUNTLET (OOC) - and Check out the IC page here!

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Dyelli Beybi
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5357
Founded: Antiquity
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Dyelli Beybi » Wed Oct 16, 2019 6:19 am

Jessica Bishop

Jessica was bored, bored and a little grumpy. Most of her friends had jobs which often left her at a bit of a loose end when they weren't at school. She would have got one as well were here father not adamantly opposed to her doing so; something about needing to focus on her studies... not that he actually pushed her to do that either. Even with people working she could usually rely on somebody being free to hang out, though her calls had, over the last week, met with a series of polite, evasive refusals. People seemed cagier than usual. Either she'd done something to piss people off (which was always a distinct possibility) or the other 'Townies' were keeping things from her. That was also, annoyingly, a very real possibility.

As much as Jessica tried her best to fit in, she also knew she wasn't quite the same as the others. She hadn't been born in Ribe and her family had a bit more money than most in the town. She'd tried hanging out with the 'Vacays' a few years ago, wondering if they were more like her. She had found them to be rude and condescending and that hadn't lasted too long. She tried another friend; her phone went straight to voicemail, then fell back on her bed with a sigh of exasperation. Where the hell was everyone?

She lay there, staring at the white of the ceiling for a few minutes before becoming annoyed with herself and sitting up again. What did people do before phones? Jessica wasn't really sure. It must have been horrifically complicated. What could she do? She considered it for a few moments before settling on going out for a run. If most of her class were standing around serving people at stores or the yacht club, then she could invest her time in improving her physical fitness up and kick their butts on the sports field when school was back in. She considered the thought for a moment. That would teach them to ignore her. She nodded to herself, satisfied she was onto a good plan, then paced over to her wardrobe, changing into a pair of running leggings, then pulling on a light waterproof jacket (just in case).

She pulled on her trainers then skipped down the stairs, airily calling in the direction of the front room, "I'm going out!"

There was a vague noise of affirmation from her mother, which Jessica took to mean 'come back whenever you want' as she shut the door behind her.

Once outside, the fresh air instantly lifted her mood; it was easy to get down when you were staring at the same four walls all day long. Plugging her earphones in, she set off in the direction of the woods. Partly because she thought it would be a nice place to go running, but also because she suspected that if her friends were up to something they didn't want to see, that it might be out there. Either that or someone's house, but she couldn't exactly go exploring other people's properties without an invitation.

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Parcia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 7106
Founded: Feb 11, 2016
Democratic Socialists

Postby Parcia » Wed Oct 16, 2019 8:16 am

Yang
Ribe woods.



While his vision was blurry, his nose on fire and his face positively on fire, his hearing was clear. Him hitting the stump served not only to call out whom ever dared interrupt his peace, but also to scare the local animals. Birds, squirrels, most woodland creatures of the sort momentarily paused at the sound of his angry impacts and it gave him a small window of time to Liston. Slowly turning his head side from side, he used his ears to give him a rough heading of were he heard the rustling of dirt and leaves, the snap of a twig as some one stood up and the rhythmic thump thump of foot steps.

What finally caused him to move was the sudden thump of something bigger hitting the ground and the sudden silence that fallowed. He started forward in to a jog, staff in hand, towards the source of the noise wagering it to be something related to the spicy assault on his senses. He did mentally pause and think that perhaps they were already gone, that maybe the faint noises he picked up were the sounds of some small deer rushing though the brush.

If it was a deer, and his attacker was gone, then he would simply shrug and get started on scrubbing the oily red irritant from his clothes and body. If not, and he had the fortune of coming upon the unlucky soul, chances are they would be on the receiving end of his staff.

Of course, that was until he came skidding to a stop, seeing the laid out form of a girl on the ground in front of him. Pausing, approached carefully to her side and, rather unceremoniously, poked her shoulder with his staff.
Last edited by Parcia on Wed Oct 16, 2019 9:57 am, edited 2 times in total.
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
Right leaning Centrist from Florida No I am not The Floridaman...hes my uncle. Other then that dont @ me about politics, im leaving that
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Endem
Minister
 
Posts: 2408
Founded: Aug 19, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Endem » Wed Oct 16, 2019 8:21 am

Stephen Clark

He was walking through the town, he always got a nice vibe from it, quite refreshing from the scorching heat he used to grow up with, back in California, he never really had a home there anyway, his parents owned a couple of apartments, they were probably preparing for something or trying to get into real estate market, whatever it was, he barely thought what it could be, he didn't care for his parents and neither did they for him, as of right now, he only limits his contacts with them to what is necessary, and besides that, he couldn't care less, he had similar thoughts about the group of friends he spent time with there, in truth they were just a bunch of yes-sayers and nothing more, if someone with a bigger wallet rolled around then they would abandon him without a second glance, if only he could separate himself from them totally, but the summertime was when they came back, fortunately for him he barely remembered it, possibly due to being not sober half of the time and second half being hangover.

As he walked through the town he finally eyed the general store, if luck had it, he would find some needles and sewing threads and if not, well then, another day perhaps, but seeing something happening there was worrying, was it a cop car, and Outsiders? Oh God, what the hell happened there, he wouldn't want anyone there to be hurt, especially since he was a regular there due to his need of the previously aforementioned products, Stephen started to run, and he was getting closer and closer, his red jeans absolutely not designed for running, what an idiot he was, to design a pair of pants you couldn't run in, ah right, that's why they never made it into any collection, he finally got to the door handle and he saw a mess there, and there was an elderly man there, an Outsider by the name Nathan, and a group of others seemingly starting to leave, wait, a senior, they hired someone new?

Anyway, Stephen opened the door at first wanted to ask if everyone was okay, but, this seemingly wasn't an option now, he started to look around the mess while also getting closer to the counter, waiting for his turn, previously he didn't even realize that his breath was fast, but it calmed down now, his tank top which looked like it had a painter make a couple of paints and splattered them on it, it's tanktopiness quite well disguised by a light blue jacket with the same sun symbol and design as the jacket he undressed his now broken mannequin from at the begging of this day has now rested on his slim body.
Hey, look at that, my sig got a rework
The little bird whistled to my ear
Blow on the wind
I blew into the wind stronger than i could
Wind packed a punch into my chest
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Union Princes
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1410
Founded: Nov 02, 2017
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Union Princes » Wed Oct 16, 2019 1:00 pm

Szarlota Raczkowska

“Let’s just fucking go, guys…” the gang leader cursed under his breath as he rubbed his hurting cheek. His eyes fearful and furious at Nate’s presence. “Let’s just get our stuff from another shop.” His buddies followed him out the store and got into the hot rod. The ultra loud heavy metal can be heard from inside the shop while the car got out of the parking lot and sped down the road. Szarlota was left behind but she didn’t care to follow just yet.

She hid behind a few aisles when the Chief was present. The Pole didn’t dare to reveal her location through the jingling of the bells on her hat. Until the cop and the Outsider gang left the area, Szarlota popped her head out of the aisles like a mischievous elf. Her jester mask twisting into a mocking laughter of good riddance. However, she wasn’t laughing when she caught a quick glimpse of the cashier transforming from a small boy into a football jock that caught the flu.

Zdumienie….” she gasps under her mask. The sequence was almost like a dream or even a hallucination. This is not the chubby boy that ignored her when she got here. No. This is a boy that would be the envy in high school and a champion of his sports team. The streaks of gold and grey on his skin reminds Szarlota of glitter and reflective confetti. Even his voice lack the meekness of before and is now full of confidence and manliness whenever he spoke.

Not to be one to stare so rudely, Szarlota turned around and exited the store. The bells chiming in distorted rhythm with her movements. She didn’t feel like buying anything in the store today and so the Pole left without a word to the cashier or the customers. Szarlota went around the corner to get her bike. She knelt down in order to fiddle with her bike lock in order to detach it from the bike rake.
There is no such thing as peace, only truce between wars

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Dyelli Beybi
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5357
Founded: Antiquity
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Dyelli Beybi » Wed Oct 16, 2019 1:16 pm

Jessica Bishop

Parcia wrote:Yang
Ribe woods.


*snip*

Of course, that was until he came skidding to a stop, seeing the laid out form of a girl on the ground in front of him. Pausing, approached carefully to her side and, rather unceremoniously, poked her shoulder with his staff.


Jessica had just been beginning to enjoy herself. She had the music on low, low enough that she could still hear what was going on around her (kinda), but nevertheless the up-beat enthusiasm of the pop station had shifted her mood from generally negative to quite up-beat. The woods really were lovely at this time of year, the wind rustled the leaves overhead, dimly heard over the competing noise of her headset, her breathing was steady, efficient and she ate up the distance faster than all but the fittest runners at the school would be able to manage.

A bird she didn't recognise called prettily from somewhere overhead. It wasn't much of a surprise - she knew absolutely nothing about birds. She rounded the corner and stopped dead. There was someone on the ground, someone she recognised, Chloe Gibson, with some crazy shaggy homeless type, probably an Outsider, standing over her with a big stick. It took a few moments for her brain to register that this was real. This was one of those nightmare scenarios that her dad kept talking about and using as reasons not to go out of town on her own. Like she was doing now. She looked at Chloe, looked at the hobo, looked back at Chloe, "Hey!" she yelled, keeping her distance from the scruffy reprobate, "Get the hell away from her!"

She considered screaming, she doubted anyone would hear, but if he thought someone might have heard he might decide to beat it anyway. She was probably faster than him if he came at her. At least that would give Chloe and chance to run the other way...

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The Japanese Americans
Envoy
 
Posts: 217
Founded: Jun 24, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Japanese Americans » Wed Oct 16, 2019 3:03 pm

Union Princes wrote:Szarlota Raczkowska

-snip-

Not to be one to stare so rudely, Szarlota turned around and exited the store. The bells chiming in distorted rhythm with her movements. She didn’t feel like buying anything in the store today and so the Pole left without a word to the cashier or the customers. Szarlota went around the corner to get her bike. She knelt down in order to fiddle with her bike lock in order to detach it from the bike rake.


Lee heard the grocery store door open and shut. He peeked around the corner to see... actually, he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing. As far as he could tell, it was a girl in a jester's outfit. She was fiddling with a bike lock. He wasn't sure if she was stealing the bike, or if it was hers. He felt an urge to make sure that she wasn't stealing it, but he repressed it. Then he apparently shifted his weight in a way that made a small rock shoot out from under his foot and skitter across the ground, making enough noise to probably get her attention. After a second of hesitation, he swung his body around in a pivot. Had she seen him? Oh god, what did she think he was doing? Did she think he was a stalker or a pervert? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
I'm an autistic 15 year old who has more of a vocabulary bank than my entire grade. Not combined, of course. I have already lost hope in this generation even though I'm part of it.

Name: Lee
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Level: 11
Total HP: 79
Total MP: 399.38
Power: 14
Strength: 12
Luck: 9
Intelligence: 71
Wisdom: 10
Active Skills: Mana Arrows, Mana Bomb, Weapon Charge, Energy Slice, Slice and Dice, Observation, Hard Hit, Spinning Mana Bomb, Spinning Mana Arrows, and Idiotic Acts

Call me JA. It's easier than typing out Japanese Americans.

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Ormata
Senator
 
Posts: 4233
Founded: Jun 30, 2016
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Ormata » Wed Oct 16, 2019 3:09 pm

Chloe Gibson
Ribe Forest, Ribe, ME


What finally caused him to move was the sudden thump of something bigger hitting the ground and the sudden silence that fallowed. He started forward in to a jog, staff in hand, towards the source of the noise wagering it to be something related to the spicy assault on his senses. He did mentally pause and think that perhaps they were already gone, that maybe the faint noises he picked up were the sounds of some small deer rushing though the brush.

If it was a deer, and his attacker was gone, then he would simply shrug and get started on scrubbing the oily red irritant from his clothes and body. If not, and he had the fortune of coming upon the unlucky soul, chances are they would be on the receiving end of his staff.

Of course, that was until he came skidding to a stop, seeing the laid out form of a girl on the ground in front of him. Pausing, approached carefully to her side and, rather unceremoniously, poked her shoulder with his staff.


In the middle of a sigh, something interrupted her. More importantly, someone interrupted her. She felt the pressure on her shoulder, the fact that it was hard and solid and smooth making it easily guessed that it was something made and not found, the fact that it was a poke an easy guess that there was someone behind the thing. It wasn’t warm and wet, though, so not a dog’s nose poking at her and she didn’t feel the warmth of breath on her shoulder so at least there was that, Chloe thought. At least there was…she half rolled over. There was a guy standing over her and, in one quick look, she was instantly confused.

He was taller than Chloe, skinner, and looked like he’d come straight out of a thrift store. The old jacket with a...well, a yin-yang symbol on it like a Buddhist’s, stitched on to where the nametape would be, jeans, and she couldn’t at all see his feet. In his hands was a stick, more like a staff Gandalf had, and the look on his face was...confused? Concerned? She couldn’t quite tell. The look that Chloe was giving back was as readable as his, though, confusion and some little measure of fear. Jeebus he’s tall, the girl thought. Did she hear him walk up? She thought through it, and maybe there were fast steps against the leaves, the shudder and dance of a branch that’s been pulled aside to swing back into place. Maybe. She hadn’t heard it though, not lost in that damn sigh. He definitely didn’t look like he was about to attack, though.

“Hey, uh...help m-” Chloe wasn’t talking too loud, though, and the sentence was killed before it got out.

"Hey!" she yelled, keeping her distance from the scruffy reprobate, "Get the hell away from her!"


Whipping her head around, or at least as hard a whip as you can when you’re laying face first in the dirt, Chloe could see...yeah another shape. No use in figuring out that one, not from her angle, so she got up just a little bit and felt the staff give way, swinging off to the side. Arms straight on the ground, yeah she could see who it was now. Jessica? Maybe? Was it Eve? No, it was Jessica. She knew her, just a little bit, in part because of her parents and in part because they were pretty similar. Jess just cared a bit more for random people’s opinions, in Chloe’s opinion, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.

Right now Jessica was doing her Sonja impression.

“It’s OK Jess! I just tripped!” Chloe called back, shaking her head just a little bit as she clamored back onto her feet.

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Parcia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 7106
Founded: Feb 11, 2016
Democratic Socialists

Postby Parcia » Wed Oct 16, 2019 3:51 pm

Michael "Yang" Dunn.

He snapped his head at the women and began to size her up. Judging her not to be a direct threat, he didn't move against her. Looking down at the girl on the ground he paused. She's cute... A mousy appearance with doe like Eyes that shown a chocolate brown in the mid day light, lighter colored chocolate hair held up in a bun, a perky nose and angular cheek bones came together to form a face that, while others might call plane, he found...Cute.

Blinking, he took a step back and planted the staff in to the dirty, embedding it in a solid 3 inches and letting it stand firm. He pointed to the Girl, motioned to him self, and began to move his hands and fingers in to the rhythmic movements of practiced American Sign language, his movements rather unsteady and frantic as the vary real pain still burned his skin as he asked, angrily, why the hell she had ambushed him with a can of pepper spray and or bear mace from the cover of a bush. He also went on to ask why the hell she would play around with a can and why she had to bother some one like him for no reason.

His intentions hopefully known, he went for his canteen again and began wash what he could off his face.
Last edited by Parcia on Wed Oct 16, 2019 6:06 pm, edited 1 time in total.
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
Right leaning Centrist from Florida No I am not The Floridaman...hes my uncle. Other then that dont @ me about politics, im leaving that
hell hole behind until I leave Uni.
I reserve all rights to my posts, OCs, and contributions to any threads I post on.
I'm a Catholic too, figure that shit out!
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Serah
Negotiator
 
Posts: 7388
Founded: Feb 13, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Serah » Wed Oct 16, 2019 4:05 pm

Helinant Servian

Helinant had woken up some hours ago. Earlier than most, from the simple fact that his room was in a particularly annoying place, that, to his dismay brought the light of the early morning sun straight into his face.
Granted, he didn't dislike it now, not as much as he used to when he was still actively trying to go to college back in France.
Now, he spent whatever time he got out of not sleeping early trying to stave off the oncoming heat and studying as much as he feasibly could. The former usually meant that it took him a couple hours until he got so bored and filled with a want to go somewhere else that he just left to do something else. Sometimes he'd come back to it.

This time, however, he had simply gone to the store. To pick up a few groceries. He had gone early, avoiding basically all of the rush that would come up during the first hours, of people in a similar situation.
'Those people, he thought, are probably also woken up by the sun. Damn ball of light and heat bringing life. How dare it disturb the good people's sleep.'
Ultimately however, he never voiced those concerns. For one, because he particularly disliked speaking without absolutely needing to, and two, because noise was always an amazing bother to him. One could then wonder why he decided to work in the yacht club's bar, but it seemed like he was able to take it.
It was also rather serendipitous that he recently discovered that he could block out the noise surrounding him, or cancel any he made. To a degree. He wasn't quite sure if the blocking of noise surrounding him was just him flexing his neck too hard or if it was actually part of his newfound ability. He had made no such effort to check, and frankly, although appreciating the turn of events, he wasn't entirely sure if he had imagined it as a means of escapism or if he actually had that ability.

The more he thought about it, the more it bugged him. It wasn't to such a degree that he felt he needed to talk to anyone about it, after all, it did help sneaking around the few people that knew him by face and mannerism, and he frankly couldn't complain.
Though, the what-ifs of such a situation did run around his head. Today, it seemed to come to a head as he actually hadn't managed to get even a single hour worth of study. A real issue in this creature of habits. As such, figuring that if one habit was broken, he might as well make the best of it although it bothered him, he started walking to work. All this dilly dallying in thinking about his ability and the anguish of not being able to study made him lose track of time. In fact, if he hadn't gotten himself back on track, he'd almost have been late with the time it took him to change into his work outfit.

"Hm. Maybe... Maybe I should try using it on purpose? I have time, some 10 minutes before my shift yet." He muttered to himself, using that sentence as a test measure on his phone's microphone. To his relative surprise, the phone only picked up the sounds of the nearby water, washing up on the shore. His voice, albeit low, usually was picked up. This time, nothing.
"Huh, He spoke again, slightly louder this time. Either I've gone mute, or this is actually a thing." And on continued the tests for the next five minutes he had until he got to the yacht club, to any passerby, he thankfully looked just like someone logging things into his phone by voice. That said, it also helped that a lot of people just generally knew him as someone that didn't act very commonly, at least outside of work.
Checking in, he nodded to the other girl that was also working the same job he was. It was the sort of bar that usually took more than one person to fully man, and he understood that. Thankfully, the girl he was working with, much like the girl at the grocery store, generally knew how he was. Silent, but efficient and capable of following directives.

He briefly figured he could at least give her a hello, but usually the girl noticed him entering, whether it was by noise, or by spotting him among the few other workers.

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