Just Another Day at the Beach (OPEN MT CHARACTER RP)

[Parina]

It was another day at Whiteshore Beach, one of the most well-known beaches in Parina. There was a smaller crowd there than usual, mostly immigrants and vacationing foreigners, with native Anglicians and Cyprians sprinkled around. People surfed, sunbathed, played at the water’s edge, and generally just lounged around, enjoying the feeling of lethargy that most Parinan beaches tend to give off.

James Arden, a dark-skinned Cyprian clad in swimtrunks and sunglasses, surveyed the beach. There were plenty of babes to be seen, some Parinans and some nice-looking foreigners.

James was a veteran of the Uprisings, with a body like a ruined Adonis. His muscular frame was covered in various scars, pucker marks and stitches from his injuries, but he moved without seeming to feel any pain. He was well known among his friends for using his good looks and veteran status as a babe magnet-a lot of women had developed new patriotism after the destruction the Uprisings had wreaked on Parina.

James picked a nice spot with some elevation, better to scope out potential conquests, and set up a reclined folding chair. Opening a can of beer, he took a sip and looked out over the beach, enjoying the view. One girl, an Anglician from the color of her skin, caught his eye.

---

That girl was Teri Millen, an lighter-skinned Anglician. She was dressed in a red bikini, and while it was not the exaggerated brief sort, the bottom part started a good two inches from her navel. She had a smooth, flat stomach and a good chest, not too small but not too large. Her black hair went down to her shoulder.

Teri was sunbathing on a deck chair, drawing quite a few glances from passing men. She enjoyed the attention, and would often deliberately shift to give a onlooker a better view. She remained unaware of James’ eyes on her body.

---

James settled into his chair, one eye on the beauty in the red bikini and the other scanning the other women at the beach. As he gulped down some more of his beer, he let the waves of lethargy wash over him, slouching a bit.

Just another day at the beach…

OOC-

Yeah, just a day at the beach. Feel free to be a native or an immigrant, and don’t worry if you want to RP a furry, all are welcome. A few things. Parina has very few vehicles, and those are owned by really rich people or companies. Most people get around by foot. There’s also no cell phone service or wi-fi in Parina-no cell towers or wi-fi hubs. People use landlines, letters, or face-to-face communication. Please no invasions, no random killing of characters, or terrorism. If you have questions, TG me.

[Parina]

BUMP

[The Fanboyists]

And one of the glances Teri was getting was from a group of three men. Well, glance wasn't really the right word. Smirking leer would do the expression more justice.

One of them looked to be Anglican, while the other two...well, nobody was particularly sure where they came from. One of them, based off his accent, was likely from the Fanboyist Federation. The other...who knew where?

And 'men' wouldn't really do them justice, either. One was destinctly weasel-like (right down to his needle-toothed grin), and the other two were much larger: the Fanboyist, probably built like a bruiser, the other, like the quintessential prison-thug.

One wolf-whistled. "Hey, babe!" he said, leering, making no attempt to hide his ogling of her tits. "Whadda ya say you come over and sit on my lap, an' we can do the first thing that comes up!" His friends laughed.

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"Shit!" he snarled, falling to the ground. The middle-aged man had a mean punch on 'em, no doubt about it...

*Thump!*

"Was that real necessary, sir?" he groaned, clutching his stomach. Damn, that hurt.

"Keep your hands off my daughter."

The thought Well maybe she shouldn't dress like a slut came to mind, but it was quickly vetoed by the more sensible parts of his brain. What, and piss him off more? the sensible side reminded.

He staggered back to his feet. And his staggering, or falling was fairly noteworthy; the man was 6'3", had a solid stance and easy, secure gait and demeanor. Confident, in other words. In control of himself.

"I didn't touch 'er!"

"That blatant groping?! 'Not touching,' eh?"

You're gonna lose this argument he thought to himself. Because the man was right. Even if he was over-blowing it a bit. Copping a feel as you walked by wasn't 'groping.' Not back home, leastways.

"Fine. I'm sorry." He couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Not out of any actual wounded dignity, but because the girl in question (probably about 16, from the looks of her rather attractive face and body) was looking mortified. Based on the slight giggle that had given him away, he thought she might have sort of enjoyed it.

Which, in point of fact, she had. Not that she would ever admit it. According to her mother (quite the feminist) she 'didn't have to take that crap.' Even if, perhaps, she wanted to 'take that crap.'

Not that the knowledge would have helped the situation any. If anything, it would probably have made things worse. The man might have been accused of 'seducing' her, instead. Which probably would have earned a broken nose.

Not a good idea for her father, given the man in question. Big, well-muscled (in a more subtle way; he clearly wasn't a professional body-sculpter or somesuch; it had a certain well-defined, unostentatious, professional feel to his demeanor and outward appearance. Soldier?

Well, he was. Well, formerly. Although most said that 'once a cataphract, always a cataphract.' Nobody argued with it. Nobody argued with cataphracts. Period. It wasn't a good idea.

[Parina]

Teri rolled her eyes and looked down over her sunglasses at the man. Foreigners, at least one of them, by the looks of it. One of them was an Anglician, probably telling his friends he could help them score some tail.

"Sorry boys," she called. "My taste runs more in the taste of men, not weasels and steroid junkies." There, maybe they'll go hit on one of the beach bunnies. Teri's right hand, the one shielded from their view by her curvy body, slid into a handbag. Teri felt the comforting texture of the .22 caliber compact pistol she carried for just such situations.

---

James faintly heard the catcall. Assholes, he thought. This woman looked a bit too classy for her "admirers." James was packing a bit more heat-a Glock 19 pistol, as a matter of fact, fully automatic with an 15 round magazine. His veteran status let him carry automatic weapons, while civilains like Teri only got access to smaller caliber, semi-auto pistols.

He didn't get up just yet-he had seen her hand reach into the bag and he figured she had some form of protection in there. But he edged a bit closer to the edge of his seat, just in case...

[The Fanboyists]

"Woah, easy, lady," the would-be-'scorer' said. She was reaching for something, and cold experience (and the bullet lodged in his arm, which hadn't been safely removable) told him that he wouldn't like whatever he was. Their new friend had told them that a lot of people here were packing heat. Better not to take that chance. "I jus' wanted to know if you'd wanna good time. It's cool. I'm leavin' now." (That was the non-descript immigrant).

The Fanboyist one wasn't used to this sort of thing. He simply snorted and said "Fuck that. She's comin' wit' us!" The other two backed away, spreading out, carefully making it clear, as if to say 'screw this guy. He's on his own. Cap 'em if you want.'

Making a grab for the young woman, he had no idea that he'd probably just killed himself, to all intents and purposes.

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Meanwhile, the man caught the man's fist, releasing it and stepping to the side.

"I don't want this to be a big fight, man," he said. He really didn't want this to get any further out of hand; he'd been dishonorably discharged for a reason. Lack of control over his temper. He knew if this man made him too angry, he'd probably end up dead, or at least in the hospital.

The sun was blazing on his face, and he turned to walk away. The girl made motions to her father to do the same. Luckily, he listened.

For a moment. Then another blow caused the bigger man to stumble, falling again.

"Daddy! What the...argh!" she ran over to help the former cataphract (Honorius was his name) up. She slipped a piece of paper into his hand as she did so.

[Parina]

Teri smiled as they backed off. Now she could get some...fuck.

The guy coming at her was definately foreign, probably ex-military or something, used to having all the girls swoon and using brute force for whatever veteran status couldn't get him.

Teri's hand came out in a blur, a small pistol gripped firmly in her hand. It would have been almost cute if she hadn't been wearing such a serious look on her face.

The barrel was aimed straight at the man's crotch, but the man's lunge caught her off-balance, and she fell off the other side of the deck chair, the pistol slipping out of her hands. She started sliding backwards, unaware that every movement pushed her bikini bottom down a little...

James saw what was going on, and he didn't like it. In a move that would have made his weapons instructor cringe, he slipped the gun into the waistband of his swim trucks behind him, tightened the string so as not to let it slip, and started walking over to where the Fanboyist and Teri faced off.

"Hey," he shouted to get the man's attention, "I think you're being a little brash for someone who just got off a boat. How's about you slow it down a bit?" He tried to project an air of calmness, trying to seem like a simple concerned bystander, though the scarring on his chest gave him away a bit.

[The Fanboyists]

Ex-military was about right, though it wasn't much of an identifier. Rough estimates put about half of the Federation's adult male population as 'ex-military.' The key was the technicalities, though; a good number of them were reservists, as this man was. But to some, mentality would seem the same (most citizens of the Federation would argue their nations didn't have real soldiers, then), and he certainly had it: lord it over the civilians, women swoon, men bow and step aside...they had the world on their pinky.

In reality, of course, they didn't, but the only people that ever made it a point to tell them were the real soldiers, occasionally the other reservists who took their job as the duty it was, and the 'Sippies', the special police (not secret; the word couldn't even be applied loosely to the SSP). Or, and they were especially hard about telling it like it was, the Cataphracts. Nobody messed with the Cataphracts. They were a real elite. A battlefield elite. Even the people that were dishonorably discharged from the Cataphracts had better standing (generally deservedly so) than reservists.

So, as a result of his haughtiness and stupidity, he snorted and said "What interest you got? I promise you'll get a turn, don' worry..."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ex-soldier (the real soldier, the one who knew how to conduct himself. Sort of) walked away, reading the slip of paper the girl had put in his hand helping him up. A phone number. Sweet.

Then he saw the commotion. Recognized the would-be-rapist's accent. Groaned. Southerners. Figures, he thought, realizing exactly what conditioned instinct and reaction would force him to do. He sighed. And it was such a nice day, too. Well, up 'till about five minutes ago.

He walked towards the man, clearly a countryman (such as it was, at least, even if Skraelings viewed that term as fairly superficial, the way Allamunnae tossed it around), who was likely to get himself shot any moment now.

He cleared his throat loudly. His shirt was missing its sleeves, leaving a tatoo clearly visible, showing a large sword, crossed lances, and a teardrop-shaped shield. An insignia readily recognized by any Fanboyist.

"I believe you're in the wrong place, good man." He looked at the other man (a native, this one, from the looks of it, although the cast of his skin and face meant he might have been able to pass for someone of Skraeling ancestry. Light-skinned, at least. Sort of), clearly a soldier (even if the ex-reservist, now looking hesitantly up from his activity, failed to realize it), and gave him a look that said: 'I can take this asshole without anyone getting hurt. Let's avoid any bloodshed, shall we?'

He pushed the would-be-violater up, and simply said: "I'd like to know your name. I'll tell you mine, fair's fair. Honorius. Yours? Then we can have a nice talk."

The other one froze. Honorius wasn't a common name in most of the Federation. He knew exactly what that, plus the tatoo and well-muscled body meant. His face turned ashen. Then he snarled.

"Whazzis broad to you, Vike?" (even if their Anglican friend had finished his backing away, the non-descript immigrant, who had traveled in the Federation, and recognized the slur, kept backing away. He knew 'Vike' was a particularly nasty way of referring to a Skraeling).

Snarl. "I care 'cause you're makin' our people look like a bunch of utterly wild, savage animals."

"You'd know what that's like, eh, Skraeling?"

The immigrant knew as well as his friend (and, moreover, remembered better than his friend) that a man like that was likely armed, even if it wasn't showing. He was well over a hundred feet distant from the little tableu.

The Fanboyist (John was his name, even if he wouldn't admit it) pulled out his own gun.

The other thing was that he did have the suspicion confirmed. The Skraeling was most certainly armed.

He was also pretty damn fast. There were unpleasant cracking noises as Honorius crossed the roughly twelve feet that had separated them at that point, snapped his wrist, causing him to lose his grip on the gun, wrenched it from his grip, twisted his arm back, probably dislocating the shoulder, tossing the gun (a 9mm) off to the side after clicking the safety on and dropping the magazine out. He then pressed his own revolver (a .45) at the man's back.

"Sorry 'bout this scag, ma'am. Call it a drink on me, if it'll help you think not all of us from over the sea are pricks like this one."

[Parina]

"No, I don't want a 'turn,' asshole, I want..." James stopped and grinned a bit as the other foreigner appeared. From the looks of it, definitely military, and the tattoo looked like something an elite wore.

The give-and-take between the two was fascinating, James tried to remember the important bits. Seemed like some divides in their country as well.

Woah. James was stunned by the reaction time and speed. This guy was elite, special forces or maybe leader's bodyguard. His hand reached for the pistol, in case this guy was just looking to scare off the competition. But the hand was removed-here was a paladin, or at least a guy who seduced girls into bed rather than carried them there.

Teri, meanwhile, was sitting on the beach, watching. She slowly got up, pulling her bottom up. "Thanks...that was amazing." She just stood there for a bit. "Sure, a drink would be nice..."

James walked over. "I'll join you, if you don't mind." He stuck out his hand. "Names James. That was some nice work there. Military, right? Special forces?"

[The Fanboyists]

As the others were noting the exchange, Honorius dropped John to the ground, easily scooping up the clip of bullets and the pistol, tucking them away. He walked back over, and growled.

"Look, boy. If I catch you so much as sniffin' around the ol' granny's 'round here, or anywhere else, for that matter, there won't be a next time." John nodded, ashen. Petrified, truth be told. Then he seemed to rally.

"Oh yeah, and what'll ya do, Vike?"

A sharp slap to the back of the head with the palm. Painful, and embarassing. No lasting damage.

"I'm a shaaktruppen, you useless sleeze bag. Use your imagination. It must work. You managed to come up with some daydream where this young lady would put up with you."

He dropped him on the ground at this point, gave him a last glare, and looked pointedly at the other two.

"Same goes for y'all, too." They both nodded hurriedly, and backed off.

Honorius turned back to James and Teri.

"Sorry 'bout that." He nodded. "Absolutely, feel free. On me, if you'd like. Name's Honorius." He nodded at James' observation, but then looked a little uncomfortable. "Yes, formerly...I was...umm...discharged, though..." before any suspicions had a chance to cross either of their minds, he added: "Nothin' underhanded or misconduct-like or nothin'. It was...well, I talked back to my superiors one-too-many times. Some higher-up wasn't satisfied with just demoting me or assigning me to a penal battalion, and opted to just kick me outta the whole deal, in disgrace, as it were." He hesitated. "Well, an' resistin' arrest. Or impoundment, or whatever the term for it is. I'm just a stupid grunt. Wouldn't know the fancy-talk for it." That didn't quite tell the whole story, and it was fairly apparent that it wasn't. He had actually threatened the commander in question with actual bodily harm, more than earning his discharge, even if the officer in question was the sort of barely-post-adolescent snotbag that thrived on butt-kissing in a beauracracy, and probably deserved the insubordination. That was for the higher-ups to decide, not him.

At the suggestion of special forces, though... he shook his head almost-violently. "Nope. Not spec-ops. Cataphract. Shock trooper. Praetorian guard. Officer pool. Best o' the best, in our humble opinion." He explained as they walked towards the nearest reputable watering hole. He paused here. "Err...what's the best bar hereabouts? Well, wit' the best reputation? You know, no major gang connections or anything?"

[Parina]

James nodded. "Well, you sure put on a good show there. I did my time with Reserves, but that's the fastest reaction time I've seen."

As they walked, Teri pointed to a small bar on the waterfront. "There's a good place, nice little bar, and pretty quiet." The worn sign on the front read WATERFRONT WELL in an antiquated script.

James agreed. "You can buy the lovely lady a drink. I'll pay for my own."

[The Fanboyists]

"It better be the fastest," he said with a chuckle. "T'was my job to be the best, after all. I'm not even the best there, actually. There was this one guy, Vaalhulm, his name was, who could do that faster than me. We practiced it a lot. Standard disarming maneuver." He nodded, as James explained his own service. "I'd imagine your reserves have a much better reputation than ours, to have taken a man like you. Reservists back home are usually the guys that either don't have the constitution for a labor stint, are too cowardly or ill-disciplined for front-line or active reserve duty, and so they get used as MP's, as that guy back there almost undoubtedly was. The Sippies, the heavy-police, such as they are, are continuously having to arrest reservist MP's that start taking licenses with their power." He nodded to Teri. "You're probably not the first young woman he's tried that on. Occasionally, when it gets real bad, we get called in to break a standoff. Usually just showin' up or cocking an AGM is enough to get 'em to stand down."

He listened to Teri's recommendation. "Good. I think we could all use 'quiet.' Not exactly a great start to a vacation, right?" He double-checked with James. "You sure? I'm happy to buy you one. Obviously, I ain't stickin' around if you decide to try and clean 'em out, if you're so inclined" and here he smiled, to indicate that he was making a joke, "but really. At least half the reason we were able to defuse that whole thin' was 'cause you were there. Always better to have more people than your opponent. Makes 'em have to think twice as much. Not that that guy was thinkin' much. Consider it a professional 'thank you.'"

[Parina]

James nodded. "Sounds like a bunch of the reserves 'round here. Some guys are just better off without power, right? And if you're so insistent, you can buy me a drink."

Teri was silent as the men talked, walking between and behind the two. She was warming to this foreigner-she had a soft spot for paladins, and right now she had two to choose from. Choices, choices...

[The Fanboyists]

Honorius wasn't great at reading people, but he could tell readily enough that Teri was taking a bit more of a shine to him. Why, he wasn't sure: didn't every guy worth his salt treat ladies this way?

Whatever. They entered the barroom easily, and he nodded to the barkeep. He breathed in the familiar smell; regardless of nation, bars almost all smelled the same. Like heaven, to a cataphract looking to unwind. Cigarette smoke, alcohol...

"How are ya? Can I get, ah..." he looked at Teri, then James, and said lower: "What drinks would y'all like?"

[Parina]

Teri waved to the barmaid, a friend of hers, as they entered. James looked around-he hadn't been here before, and his battle-hardened eyes sought out windows, exits, good cover, etc. After a bit, he snapped out of his examination and turned to Honorius. "Scotch, on the rocks."

Teri sat down next to Honorius, maybe just a bit too close for someone she had met just a few minutes ago. "I'll have a bourbon, thanks."

[The Fanboyists]

Honorius pretended not to notice that Teri was...er, gravitating in a little closer than the average 'respectable' woman back in the Federation might with a person that was only a few minutes removed from being a complete stranger. He hadn't even asked her her name yet. A state of affairs which he intended to remedy.

He nodded to the barkeeper. "A bourbon for lovely young miss, here, and, err...do you have Thomasburg Stout, by any chance?" He didn't bother to ask what James wanted; he'd already made his choice. He added then "Oh, this round for all of us is on me, sir."

He turned back to Teri, rather enjoying their proximity. If all the women here are this...foward, I really oughta stay... he thought.

"I feel horrible, ma'am, that I hadn't even asked you your name, Miss...?"

[Parina]

The barkeep took down their orders and walked off.

Teri smiled a warm smile. "Teri." She didn't offer her last name.

[The Fanboyists]

"Thank you, Teri. Didn't already introduce myself, did I?" He returned the smile. It was easy enough. Not forced at all. Yup. Good company, if nothing else, for the day.

At that point, their drinks were served. He raised his bottle of beer and nodded. "Toast? To peace and quiet?" Yup. Thomasburg Stout. Just like he remembered. Best stuff around. Thick. Full-bodied. Refreshing. Wheaty. Good stuff.

As Teri turned away for a moment, he took the opportunity to sneak a peak at her body. It was a sight he enjoyed, and his conclusion wasn't dissappointing. She would probably be good in bed, if it was any indication. He hoped he could get her there. Just don't over-do it, man. Not worth it to make her mad. Only if she wants to, his conscience added hastily. He resumed normal eye-contact as she turned back.

"So...Teri, what do you do the rest of the time? Or do you get paid to spend your time at the beach, beautifying the place the way you do so well?"

[Parina]

James raised his scotch to the toast and drank, feeling the liquid fire burn down his throat. "Ah," he breathed. "That's good stuff." He saw Honorius checking Teri out, and grinned.

Teri smiled at the compliment. "Thank you, Honorius. My dad owns a shipping company, so - don't work now, but sooner or later I'll probably have to take over some part of the company."

[The Fanboyists]

He nodded happily. "Quite welcome. I think you quite deserve it." Then, hearing about her 'career', such as it was, whistled. "Well then," he said, taking another sip. "You've pretty much got it made, then." He noticed James grinning, and, taking a quick chance, winked and grinned at him. He knew that James knew what was probably crossing his mind. He turned back to Teri, applying the charm a little more now.

He also noticed that Teri's drink was getting a little low. The sun was getting lower now, too. "Would you like another, one, Teri?" he asked, gesturing to her glass.

[Tangomania]

It was just half past Gary Cooper time, that is twelve thirty. As Jonnie Tango , President and C.E.O. of Tangomania eyed the woman in the red bikini. He heard Shipping and thought a business relation might be brewing as he sipped his Pina Colada. Red bikini , shipping , good business venture with the nation of Tangomania and a huge bulge in his shorts!

[Parina]

Teri nodded. "Another drink? One would almost think you were trying to get me drunk," she smiled to show she wasn't serious, then nodded. "Another drink, then we should leave. It'll be dark soon."

[The Fanboyists]

Honorius gave a laugh. "Oh no! I've been found out!" He laughed again, smiling happily. "All kidding aside, though, yes. It will be getting dark soon." He smiled slyly. "Got any plans? Either of ya?" He called for another two drinks (one for Teri, one for himself), and felt himself relaxing further.

"There a good nightlife here?"

[Parina]

Teri shook her head. "Nope, nothing." She took a sip of the drink as the barkeep placed it in front of her.

James frowned. "Sadly, I have to leave soon-I have something I have to get to. As for the nightlife, plenty of fun to be had down in the red light district-that's where most of the bars and clubs are." James smiled, remembering some of his adventures through that area. "You can't miss it-all the streetlights shine red after dark."

[The Fanboyists]

Honorius raised an eyebrow. "Red-light district? Ain't that a little...err....disreputable? That's what it implies where I come from..." he paused. "I'll take your word for it, though." He turned to Teri.

"Well, then, would you care to join me for a night out, perhaps?"

[Parina]

James laughed. "Oh yes, it's fun of brothels and strip clubs and the like. But there are some respectable bars down there, they tend to congregate. It's not just a den of sin."

Teri smiled. "That sounds nice, Honorius. I would be glad to join you."