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Personification Life: EPIC (IC Thread XI) [CLOSED]

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Swith Witherward
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Founded: Feb 11, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Swith Witherward » Sat Dec 19, 2015 3:04 pm

WHITE RABBIT

Dense fog blanketed the low-lying fields, obscuring Neste from Marcus’ view as she moved through the morning gloom. His stooped form bent lower from time to time as his cybernetic eye ferreted out the rapidly cooling footprints left in the moist ash. He paused at a low wall, retching as particles assaulted his lungs. She’d crossed here. Her warmth still graced the stones. Calloused hands slipped his respirator into place, and then he hauled himself over the wall to drop to the withered pasture below.

Rising steam obliterated the construct’s tracks. He pressed his back against the wall and groaned. Why would she come out here? His father and Ocho had both predicted her departure yet both had also remained mute when pressed for the answer to that question. Ocho insisted he stop her. His father insisted no one interfere; the young man was to contact him instead and he would handle it, whatever it was.

“Where are you bastards now?” the Rassophore growled. More importantly, where was she? He cast his gaze into the gloom and gained nothing.



The spent carpule pierced the flimsy barrier encapsulating the fungal pool to land amid the white filaments and blue bulbs. Neste followed it.

The sickly scent of bitter almonds assaulted her nostrils. She staggered as cyanide stormed her respiratory system. Her engineered body compensated, each cell’s mitochondria waging war in a violent bid to maintain cell respiration. They would lose. The carpule’s contents sabotaged the entire brilliant design. Now she need only silence her processor. No more bootstraps.

Now giddy, Neste closed her eyes to savor the chemical rush. She threw her head back to mock the unseen sun, derisive cackling bubbling from her taunt lips and exposed tongue.

“One carpule makes you hover, and one carpule makes you fall, and the ones that Rodney gives you, don't do anything at all,” Neste hurled her arms wide to dance to death’s soft refrain. “Go ask Malice when she’s ten feet tall.”



Marcus’ eyes narrowed suspiciously. She was singing! The tune warbling though the fog struck home, however. Home! Not this fucked up dimension, or even Bielefeld. Home was the Daemon world: the depressing workshops and factories that comprised his father’s headquarters, where not even the innocent couldn’t escape his cruel hands, and Grace Slick’s “White Rabbit” unremittingly echoed down every last corridor to drown out his victims’ screams. But this wasn't something she was supposed to remember. His father erased all that.

He set off once more, this time at a run and now utterly determined to find her. Stop her. Damn her!



The construct danced in the vibrant blue fungus pool, her woolen overcoat flapping in the mists as she endlessly warbled the dreadful tune. Marcus slowed to a jog and then stopped short of the pool’s edge. The lyrics were clearer now that he was close. His brow furrowed.

Neste's voice, as soothing as the caresses she bestowed upon him as a child, rang out with absolute clarity. “And if you go chasing innocents, and you know you're killing thrall, tell 'em a hemorrhagic hive has given you the call… call Malice, obliterate them all.”

“The fuck you babbling?” the angry words fluttered from his lips faster than sensibility could hold them back. “Neste, get out of there. Come here!”

His fingertips tingled as he lifted a hand to gesture at her. She had put up one of those wonky Nifid barriers to keep him out. It was feeble though. If push came to shove, he’d dart in and snatch her.

She paused and turned towards him. Marcus’ heart leapt to his throat and he dared to hope, but it was fleeting and swallowed once their eyes finally locked. The ancient construct had always been his last bastion of sanity in a world filled with Chaos’ horrors. But now? There weren’t any mutually shared memories dancing behind her hard, hollow eyes. The fretful young man in front of her was a stranger. The knowledge chilled him to the bone.

“Septimus?” Neste’s expression softened as she beheld the young man in his red priest’s robes.

Trembling fingers hastily unfastened the protective respirator to expose his face. Marcus inhaled the corrupted air. “Look at me, Neste. It’s Marcus. It’s your Little One. It’s me. You shouldn’t be out here. Let’s go back to the Building”

“When the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go,” her voice haunted the fungal pool, ringing softly in the mists as it grew in sinister tremor. “And you've just lost half your consciousness, and Logic is no more… go ask Thaddeus, I think he’ll know.”

“Alright, we’ll visit my dad. Let’s do that, okay? Please, Neste?”

Marcus felt his chest constrict as Neste drew the Drone’s sidearm from her pocket. His eye widened. He was out of his league. This was the majors. He wasn’t about to stand around chatting with her if she was intent on driving him away, and he wasn’t entirely certain she would fire a warning shot before putting a round through him.

“When reason and proportion have fallen sloppy dead, and Ogoti is talking backwards and Naomi's lost her head…”

“What?” Trapped between flight or fight, the young man’s mind frantically sought to piece things together.

“Remember what FUBAR said?” Neste coolly raised the weapon but, to his horror, the muzzle came to rest against her own temple.

“DON’T DO THIS, MAMA NES! DON’T YOU FUCKING DO THIS!”

Feed your head…

Marcus flinched at the muzzle flash, his unblinking optic recording the instantaneous blossoming of Neste’s skull and grey matter. The aerosol cloud tainted the mist a smeary pink shade as her headless body toppled, rigid, to the rank fungus beneath their feet. He was dimly aware of the hoarse shriek tearing from his own throat.

Feed your head. Her final words became an ear worm.

“No, no, no…” Shock delivered pure ice into his veins, shattering Marcus to his core. The fog closed in to oppress him. He hissed her name between shallow, hyperventilated breaths, and forced himself to press against the barrier's edge.

The mycelium and ascocarp bulbs mocked him as the fungus rapidly closed in to consume her body. Her elegant fingers twitched in final cadaveric spasms. He couldn’t leave her there. He couldn’t leave her broken on the ground. He couldn’t abandon her, not here. Fuck his father’s orders. Fuck the man that took everything from everyone.

“Etiam in morte, superest amor.” Marcus drew a steadying breath as his fingers pulled his priestly cloak more tightly around his shivering form. He knew deep down that Ocho was wrong about the field. He knew it, just as surely as he knew his earlier wrath at Drova was fueled by the loss of Scel, and just as he knew his own love for Giovenith would carry beyond his own mortal coil. Neste’s memories were gone, but not Scel’s. And he knew it was Scel that called to him now. He’d retrieve the body and bring it back, and then he would find Septimus. They would restore her, just as she had restored Septimus. The older cyborg would know how. Marcus would never doubt the veracity of that belief.

Feed your head.

The young man confidently lifted his foot and took a step into the Nifid pool, daring the universe to doubt the power of love as he pushed through the flimsy barrier. His heavy heel carefully came to rest between the almond scented ascocarp bulbs.

Marcus Usseio had never been so wrong in his entire, brief life.
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Tiltjuice
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Tiltjuice » Sat Dec 19, 2015 5:46 pm

Chrysanthe stopped in her tracks for a moment, frowning deeply. The most disagreeable of sensations had swept across her; much like the feeling of a feather brushing over every inch of a human's skin, even that covered by hair. Except the touch of cold had her transfixed, and growling near-silently, as if the strands of the feather had been crafted from iron, with a barb at the end of every one...

She separated herself from the group abruptly. A Conservator's reflexes were deeper than bone-deep on this stimulus, and she thanked Fate that Demens had seen fit to put a phone booth in the Building lobby. Opening her eyes wide, she scrutinized herself. Asdra, and Bran; nothing was ordinary about them, she knew. Nor, she now saw, about herself. Her irises were still as blue as ever.

Then what...?

She sighed. For now, there were no answers. Perhaps she'd get a drink, and then seek out Hans or Luce to talk it over?

Almost without conscious will, the petite woman turned toward the stairs and stepped into the communal dining room - and there was Hans anyway, conversing with a Pony.
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Charmera
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Father Knows Best State

Postby Charmera » Sat Dec 19, 2015 7:25 pm

Tiltjuice wrote:There was silence for some time, until Chrys finally spoke (chimed?) up.

"I like him; he's friendly, in a gruff sort of way. In the meantime, Asdra - I was wondering a bit more about your runes. What exactly do they do? How do you work them into metal?" The questions, of course, were disjointed and followed no coherent train of thought, but that was her way when she really got enthusiastic about something. Hair color notwithstanding.

"I agree. It's always nice to see someone who Works with metal too." Remarked Asdra. She was especially interested in the mans offer, but said only she'd come back to him when she was more set up and ready to recieve clients. "Runes? Runes can do a lot of things, enhancing an objects natural properties, bringing out properties or engraving new ones. Usaully I carve them into the metal, pour some of my magic into them and then strike the rune a few times with my hammer."
Zarkenis Ultima wrote:And here, we see a wild Shittonicus Charactericus, coloquially known as Charmera, in its natural habitat. It seems to be displaying behavior expected from one of its kind, producing numerous characters and juggling them with its front paws.

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Northwest Slobovia
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Anarchy

Postby Northwest Slobovia » Sat Dec 19, 2015 7:50 pm

Woolly Bowl 2015: Residents Shear Sheep 19-1
Keys to victory: nipples, experimental music


Cerillium wrote:Nick soared through the air (perhaps with a perfunctory yowl) high above the now-passive meadow, striking the Pegasus on the face just as he finished the second to last note. [...] Sadly for him, his own ass struck nothing, instead sailing through the air where the dome should have been. Whatever magic contained them had dissolved.

Sandy bobbled Nick, but wasn't able to grab him as he skidded backwards through the air. His equine eyes grew wide: whether cats always landed on their feet or not, the drop was considerable, and all they'd need at this point was for Nick to break a few legs. Sandy dove under Nick, stretching his neck out to catch Nick on his head. It wasn't beautiful, but it would do.

His ears caught the harpy speaking, and as he turned his ears and attention to her, Sandy realized that the music he'd heard before was gone. Puzzling; whatever it was seemed to have stopped. Sandy flapped his wings once, then glided over to Aegis and the harpy, landing so he could let Nick slide down his broad nose to the ground.
Last edited by Northwest Slobovia on Sun Dec 20, 2015 9:37 am, edited 1 time in total.
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The Carlisle
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Ex-Nation

Postby The Carlisle » Sat Dec 19, 2015 8:46 pm

Wooleybowl

Kale jumped with glee as the song finished and the sheep calmed. It actually worked. She then looked concerned as Sandy was launched out of the dome. Kale used her legs as best as she could to catch up to Sandy, but it seems the man caught himself before anything happened. She sighed in relief as he sailed down to Aegis. Kale made her way to the golden faced man, but then remembered something quick

"Shoot!" she said. She searched around, looking for the tangled lamb. She spotted it, though it was on the ground and covered in vines. She sighed, the stampede probably taking it down like the flowers. She didn't want to leave the poor animal dangling.

With that out of her mind, she continued back to Aegis and the others.
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Cerillium
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New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Sat Dec 19, 2015 10:51 pm

ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST

Demens wasn’t a Being that put much stock in prayer. It was an outdated practice insulting to both supplicant and god, and Demens required no worshiper base in order for him to function. So rarely did anyone bother to pray to him that he’d all but forgotten that the concept was still vogue for other pantheons.

The Greater Being regarded the human standing in his private office. The room, much like the Building’s interior, morphed into whatever the beholder deemed appropriate, and so it became a broody den. Dark, wood paneled walls and heavy furniture were the order of the day, and Demens, much to his chagrin, found himself comfortably seated in an overly large leather armchair. Sure, why not? He’d roll with it.

Demens smoothed his lapels. The well-tailored suit fit him well, even when seated. He would have laughed had the Judge’s frozen expression not been so serious. Well, if the human wanted a powerful Boss, he would comply.

A soft flash heralded Thaddeus’ arrival. Demens snapped his fingers to dispel the old cyborg’s preferences before they could conflict with the other humans.

“Be a good hench,” he wagged a finger. There wasn’t any need to fill in the details. Demens kept track of his own dimension. He released the Judge from his state in order for him to fully take in the new surroundings.

Thaddeus didn’t question. He’d danced this waltz before and, though he loathed it, it granted him the opportunity to take a break from his own curse. Here in this Heaven outside the Cup, Space and Time held no importance. His ass would be chewed upon long after this meeting concluded. And then he’d be back in the box, with no time having passed at all since the Judge dialed the number.

The Being lifted a cigar and the cyborg complied with a flick of his lighter.

“Time is money, Mr. Maloney,” Demens puffed the cigar to life. It flared, and Thaddeus closed the zippo, all too happy to play his role. He stepped back to flank the chair, heavy hands clasped in front of him as though he were the universe’s ugliest goon.

“Y-You know my name?” the Judge twitched as he realized he wasn’t in his cheaply-decorated Throne Room anymore but was, in fact, standing in the office of the head honcho of the entire operation. Mr. Demens, himself, in the flesh - or whatever passed for flesh among Greater Beings - was there. The greying man resisted the urge to piss his pants and instinctively reached down to his revolver, though he found it missing from the holster at his side.

“S-So you’re Mr. Demens, then?” he cleared his throat, putting on his best face. Bosses only respected force and, judging from the well-worn cravat and crisp suit, Demens enjoyed playing the role of a Boss himself, “I… figured your friend was bluffing. I see I was wrong. You’ve got quite… interesting taste in henchmen.”

“We aren’t here to discuss henchmen, Mr. Maloney. We’re here because you called. Now, what do you want?” Demens’ lips curled into a wry grin.

The smile on the big boss was unsettling and the Judge found himself really missing his weapon as he ran a hand over his face and pondered this new development. As far as he’d known, Demens had just been some kind of crazy fantasy people in the main city conjured up to explain all the weird shit happening. Yet, here he was, the God himself. He wondered…

“Mr. Usseio told me that sparing him and his fellows might grant me leverage over some of the city - after all, knowing a Boss like yourself is bound to scare some of the small fry in line and put me on more even footing with the city,” the hand left his face but a lone finger came up to tap his chin contemplatively, “But of course that leverage only comes if you’re- well, if I’m on your side, so to speak. Am I some expendable crony you’re gonna throw away or am I among the… ‘chosen’ you think so highly of?”

Demens eased back in the chair. Humans. Odd creatures bent on maintaining their social structures. Put one on an island and he’s at peace. Put two, and they vie for control. The Judge was no different.

“Every person has a calling, Mr. Maloney. Some rise to it. Some do not. What you do is your own free will. I don’t care if you believe in me, or follow me. Do not worship me. Fuck, that gets under my skin. I’m not Zeus or Elohim.”

He tapped an ash and watched it fall. It vanished before hitting the carpet. “You are not expendable. I chose you. Why? That’s my business. I’ll say this: you have a purpose in life. You’ve applied yourself. I like that.”

Demens tilted his head to regard the brute beside him. “This one blew his chances. I helped fix his mistakes. I’m not usually in that line of work. You, Mr. Maloney, shouldn’t come to expect favors from me.” He sighed. “As for sparing the group? You’ll spare them because the alternative is a one-way trip to the Outermark.”

A familiar smile curled onto the Judge’s face. Good, he was among the select. Whether or not Demens sought to throw any favors his way was none of his business - when the chips were down, he'd know where the Greater Being in front of him would be. No one just threw away an investment, even if it was a lesser Boss past-his-prime.

As for the threat, it wasn’t personal, just the way of the street. Judge liked that.

“Fair enough, I know a hard bargain when I see one,” at this point Judge would’ve shaken hands with his fellow but he felt the gesture might be beneath such a mighty individual and offered a slight nod in deference, “A pleasure to finally meet the man behind the strings, Mr. Demens. Or should I say… Big Boss?”

“I go by many names,” Demens’ eyes twinkled. “Call me what you wish.”

A leg crossed to serve as a perch for his hands. “Gatejumpers. Your boys were quick to handle them. I like that. I may have a proposition at a later time that you would find most favorable.”

“My boys handled them so far as it pertains to my turf,” Judge’s smile dropped a bit and his eyes took on a weary edge, “I know you know what’s up, but watch the main city, yeah? Council and their bitches think they can speak for you, Boss, and they’re strangling the Uppers and Burrows. Not my place to say what to do, but you know the score.”

Demens chuckle caused the old cyborg to lift a brow. The Greater Being raised his finger to poke the empty air. “I know how it is, Mr. Maloney. Perhaps it’s time I put a bee in their bonnets? That should get them off your back for a little while.”

Meanwhile... back in the City (in the Council Chambers, to be exact) a small bluebird landed on the Speaker's Podium. It whistled a jaunty tune before shitting out a jeweled egg bearing Demens' Mark. This wasn't the first time such a thing had transpired, although such an event hadn't happened in well over a century. The egg cracked and the lid swung back on tiny hinges to release a swarm of angry red-hued bees. (Priests would later explain the symbology as simply "Demens is pissed off.")

“Now then, you have your turf to run, and I have other things to look into.” It was a polite dismissal on Demens’ part.

Maloney hesitated before cracking another smile, relief manifesting as he rubbed his forehead with a sigh. His fortune had never been so good, “You take care now, Boss. I’ll be sure to make the most of this.”



THE JUDGE'S THRONE ROOM

Rodney kept his thoughts to himself, although his fingers crossed in hopes that Demens wouldn't appear and snuff them all. The Nifid, for all their beliefs in their own godhood (for they were godlike compared to primitive races such as mankind), knew better than to fuck with the Big Guns. He watched the Judge's face with interest.

His clever senses failed to notice the small cigar ash pile materializing on top of the letter. Demens wanted to make certain the Judge didn't think the meeting was imagined.

The love box wouldn't register Thaddeus' departure or return. The old cyborg sighed as the familiar interior appeared before his eyes. Ass properly chewed, he chose to let the Judge speak first. His assessment of the man had shifted slightly. He liked him, and that said much considering Thaddeus' level of disdain for most living things.



Image
Schkip!


BAA, HUMBUG!

The Harpy introduced herself as Griselda, and then begged off further conversation. Chasing lambs was a chore and she, like her companions, was worn thin from the effort.

Nila scampered ahead of the group (Sandy's boxers now worn as a hat, though she kindly returned his trousers to him) as they made their weary way past the village. The churchyard contained new lambs and grateful villagers but, as Ocho pointed out, sticking around for praises might also result in people demanding more favors from them. The group continued onward for that reason, via Sandy's Jeep, and arrived home by early evening. If they had clever eyes, they might have noticed two bathtubs docking on the roof.

Savory smells greeted them as they entered the lobby. Someone had put up a poster reading, "Thanksgiving Feast Upstairs!"

Ocho and Nila both bid their group farewell. They'd need to clean up before interacting with anyone.



CHEFS!


Willow's conversation had been interrupted by the kitchen timer, and soon the group was back to work (but not before "Hans" had drawn Chrys aside to ask if she had free time later on -- there were things he needed to explain.)

Tables were set, dishes were laid out, and drinks were poured. All that remained was the rest of the Residents.


THE CHICKENING

The setting sun's red rays glinted off the chicken coop's solid walls and roof. It had taken nearly all day to complete. All that was left was someone to created hammerspace inside it (Giovenith or Klaus, perhaps), and the addition of actual poultry.

"That's a lovely coop," Adrastus folded his arms as he surveyed the handiwork. "In a pinch, the damn thing could be a bomb or Fiend shelter."

And so it was (for sake of brevity) that the Building had its first livestock pen, and the builders parted ways to wash up for a promised feast upstairs.


ROOFTOP

A smile broadened Klaus' mouth as he peered into one bathtub and the other. The occupants' timing was perfect.

"Wakey, wakey, Miss Tora and Mr. Sterling. I you hurry, you'll catch an thanksgiving feast in the communal dining room," the former Nazi nudged each to rouse them. "Mr. Sterling, much has changed since you were here last. This isn't Bielefeld anymore. And Miss Tora, you only left yesterday!"


LOBBY

The Front Desk Cultist peered over his desk to regard the furry blue person that had just dropped from the chandelier. Another new Resident. Wonderful. He lifted the clipboard in his hands and slammed it down to awaken the creature from the spell.

"Hey! Are you Maghrl’laundersando’tamil’reumaur?" he stumbled a bit over the name, his Bavarian accent nearly slaughtering the end of it. "If so, wake up. You have a lease to sign. And you have questions. They always have questions. Lots and lots of questions!"


FREESTYLE FOOD!

It had been a long while since the Residents had gathered just to socialize. Not since the Naked Fairy Incident had so many come together for laughter or everyday conversation. Word of the Thanksgiving Feast blazed through the Building, spread by the wings of good smells as well as people knocking on doors or ringing buzzers.

Rache settled at a table near Willow, eager to pick up where they had left off. Hopefully Chrys would join them shortly.

He found a comfortable pillow to add to the Pony's bench, and poured out some wine for them. "You were talking about the three antiques," he ventured. "The ones bearing marks of Equestrian craftsmanship. Is it possible they do open a gateway to your home country? Getting in and out of this dimension is nearly impossible but, as Klaus is fond of saying, Demens has a way of providing routes when no others seem to exist."

A mischievous glint twinkled his eyes. "And, if they are a gateway, when would you like to leave?"

Ocho and Adrastus chose a table near the window, and seemed deep in discussion. Marcus had not returned, much to the old abbot's dismay. Further, the Overseer was missing. The knowledge unsettled the thade. It was entirely possible that the lizard had gone to ground, or the boy had shirked his duties. Then again, it wasn't like Marcus to remain out of contact. Neither cyborg had been able to reach him through his comms.

Minerva, Sophie and Nash arrived in due time, the former freshly back from her death cycle. They settled at the cyborg's table in order to catch up on Brotherhood news (which was good, as far as establishing a communications network. "One more day will have it done!")
Last edited by Cerillium on Sun Dec 20, 2015 8:55 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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New Aksarben
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Founded: Oct 08, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby New Aksarben » Sat Dec 19, 2015 11:23 pm

Cerillium wrote:LOBBY

The Front Desk Cultist peered over his desk to regard the furry blue person that had just dropped from the chandelier. Another new Resident. Wonderful. He lifted the clipboard in his hands and slammed it down to awaken the creature from the spell.

"Hey! Are you Maghrl’laundersando’tamil’reumaur?" he stumbled a bit over the name, his Bavarian accent nearly slaughtering the end of it. "If so, wake up. You have a lease to sign. And you have questions. They always have questions. Lots and lots of questions!"


The purple, not blue, furry person awoke from his daze with a start. Especially since that loud clipboard just slammed on the table loud enough to sound almost like a gunshot to the little alien. His eyes and ears focused on the source of the sound, his fur almost visibly bristling for a second, before he realized that it was just a human (or the like, some subspecies were oh so close in appearance, it got confusing) without any weapons. The Squib also seemed to notice that he was in a slightly strange looking hotel, was it? No, no, apartment building. He shook his head to clear some of the fuzz before blinking and looking up towards the human behind a desk before speaking with a strange accent, a bit reminiscent of both Irish and Russian, but at the same time neither.

"Ah, yes yes, This one's name is yes-indeed Maghrl’laundersando’tamil’reumaur. Please do say-use 'Maghrl' for brief-shortness." He said with a small bow. Then he looked slightly confused as he asked "Lease? Maghrl has no memory-recollection of buy-getting a live-place. Sure human-man not get Maghrl mistake-confused for some being other?" He did have a peculiar way of speaking, almost doubling up on certain words as if to reinforce their specific meaning.

All in all, the squib was taking things in stride. A jedi after all always did make sure to keep a level head in the strangest of situations of course.
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Northwest Slobovia
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Founded: Sep 16, 2006
Anarchy

Postby Northwest Slobovia » Sun Dec 20, 2015 4:11 pm

After driving the Residents back to the Building, Sandy got a belated victory celebration. He stepped out of the garage door and made with the flying horse routine. He drove his wings down once, twice, and again, shooting into the air. Cresting the Building's roof, he closed his eyes and immersed himself in the sensations of a being of the air: the wash of the wind across his ears, through his mane, and over his wing feathers. He needed no horizon to climb: Pegasus' sense of up and down told him all he needed to know.

Sandy soared higher and higher until the Building was just a squarish thimble far below him, then he tucked his wings and dropped like a hawk. "Because I can" was his only reason. He wheeled and raced until he wore himself out, then glided softly to the Building's roof; landing, becoming a man, and walking to the roof-top door in a single, fluid motion.

Cleaned and wearing fresh clothes, Sandy followed the feast's aroma into the dining room. He scanned the crowd, and found what seemed to be the beginnings of the adult table. He sat there, seated so he could watch for newcomers: if a disoriented general could join them in Galli, others could.
Gollum died for your sins.
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Giovenith
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Founded: Feb 08, 2012
Left-wing Utopia

Postby Giovenith » Sun Dec 20, 2015 6:28 pm

Glad to sit after the long morning of work, Willow swirled and examined his wine as Rache spoke, then shifted his eyes back up as he asked about leaving.

"Quite a leap to assume they're a portal, though I don't see how that could be any less a guess given everything else that happens here," he said, before placing his glass down and getting up to trot a short distance over to Giovenith, who was sitting by a window in thought. He nudged her side, and she responded by smiling and pulling his saddlebag out of her pocket and handing it to him. Strap in mouth, Willow walked back over to Rache and carefully laid the bag down on the table.

"They're pretty durable, but I still handed them to Giovenith's hammerspace for safe-keeping," he explained, opening up the bag and carefully pulling out the three antiques: The silver and amethyst astrolabe, the water-and-mist filled gilded hourglass, and the engraved discus. "Each one has a little trick. The astrolabe can generate an educational illusion of the night sky, the hourglass makes clouds and rain within itself, and I found out the engravings on the discus glow when you position the hole in the middle to the sun - though how brightly they glow varies. I don't know where they came from, but I can tell they're pony-made."
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"Gio has said "fuck you" a few times prior in this chat.
At her phone, at a friend over the letter x, at poe's law,
at me once, at NA once, at pokemon a lot, at people
who do not like polishing rocks, at god, and I stopped
reading after page one of search results but there's two more"
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Fvaarniimar
Minister
 
Posts: 3119
Founded: Nov 20, 2013
Mother Knows Best State

Postby Fvaarniimar » Sun Dec 20, 2015 8:11 pm

Rmwtyliin gulped, eyes very wide.  The dots - weapons -

And I thought they were just pretty lights.

I am terrified.  I must not show fear.  If I do someone might think I am weak enough to take advantage of; I will lose more respect. 
She wondered if they might be right. Focus on the moment - pay attention.  Focus on that fun blanket hut.  Part of her rather wanted to laugh at the discordant silliness of it and her tense frown relaxed, although she wasn't smiling.  Alright.  Well.  Slow breaths.  Could she be the one to return? But if I do that, I choose to fail, do I not?  Perhaps it would merely be a retreat.  A way to help the Residents maintain good relations...  Spiritofconceptof shelter, I ask for protection... Will they hear?  Repeating habits can calm - this is of home - maybe they can hear. Spiritofconceptof square root of two, irrational as you are, help guide me in this irrational place/situation...Ilackunderstanding which you... may?... have...  Rmwtyliin's eyes had returned to normal when the subject of Demens was raised.  They went quite wide.  Calling a spirit, on a sell fon?

I
knew those things were strange.

Soon, however, she started to doubt that the device was quite strange enough. Nothing is happening.  Nothing is happening?!  The girl slumped -
And the Judge's expression changed.  Something happened.

---

There was indeed a perfunctory yowl.  Accompanying it was a silent scream of sorts which, suddenly, wasn't.  <Ahhhh!> and terror and <this seems to be happening frequently> hit Sandy for a second as the cat was bobbled -

Moments later Nick landed on the equine head, and relief hit Sandy - along with the rest of the scream, of course!


Some have observed that emotions can affect the taste of food.  Nick found his dinner occasionally spiced by tinges of hope, fear/nervousness, sadness.  The nervousness seemed to be making him a mite queasy - but perhaps it was the skunk flowers, Rache's cooking, or even the effects of ingesting magical animal byproducts (he had groomed post-sheep snafu.)  Regardless, he would experience some digestive distress...

Later.  For now, he gnawed a turkey leg rather contentedly, inhaling the savory scent, and turned towards Willow. He had heard some things about the pony's role in all this. "Great foo -" He waited for his friend to finish speaking.

"You might get to go home? That's - great?" It occurred to him that Willow's departure would, like Torii's, mean he wasn't around...and what if you stay?
Last edited by Fvaarniimar on Sun Dec 20, 2015 9:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Come to the light side.  We have teamwork, waffles, popcorn, grape juice, and way too much ramen.
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New Aksarben
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 12311
Founded: Oct 08, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby New Aksarben » Sun Dec 20, 2015 9:20 pm

The pony roused and was startled by a voice he had for sure heard before, but definitely not in Equestria. Sterling scrambled himself to his hooves, all four of them, and glanced around in shock. Yep, definitely not his home, or Equestria. Actually he had no idea what this place was! Wasn't the building on earth, not this strange place it was now? And why was he in a bathtub! The pony had so many questions, none of which would probably be given satisfactory answers at least soon. Well maybe some would. Sterling could never tell while he was here. Wherever here was!

"Wait what, how in Tartarus did I get back to the building?! Last I remember I was reading a book.... And Celestia damn it I forgot to lock my front door again!" Weird thing to care about but it was Sterling after all. "Wait, if this is the building, Willow must be somewhere! I gotta find him!"

With that he basically jumped his way out of the tub and charged his way for the stairs, determined to find his friend. The human had mentioned something about a feast. That'd be as good of a place as any to start searching!
Happiness is when
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what you say,
and what you
do are in harmony.
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Cerillium
Senior P2TM RP Mentor
 
Posts: 12454
Founded: Oct 27, 2012
New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Sun Dec 20, 2015 9:26 pm

LOBBY

"You'll need a place to stay," Volker the Front Desk Cultist sighed, "You're in a dimension far, far away from wherever you call home. We all are. Nobody knows why we're here, though we suspect the landlord, Mr. Demens, has something to do with it."

He eyed the yellow sticky note. "Looks like you're in 9B. That's across the hall from Rmwtyliin Fvvarniimalasaakuuliia. Nice girl. Shorter than her name is long. Mr. Demens will see to it that your apartment is to your liking and contains what you need. You sign, you get a key. And you'll be able to join in the feast upstairs."

He slid a pamphlet* across the desk. It described the Building's various amenities.


DINING ROOM

Rache's head cocked. "I thought you said they'd be the only way to find our way to Equestria. If they are not a portal, they might be a map?"

The daemon ruled out the map potential once Willow extracted each unique item. Rache's particular species were terrible at riddles and puzzles (these things belonged to Plotter), but the prospect of understanding foreign magic intrigued him. A hundred questions filtered through his head though he was content to settle upon asking only a few. He leaned forward to better see the elegant astrolabe. "Which night sky? This one, or Biefield, or Equestria? I assume Equestria."

Ah, but the hourglass was also interesting, especially given what Willow disclosed earlier about Pegasi. "And this," he gestured to it with a nod of his head, "It makes the very things winged Ponies concern themselves with? Weather? Does it also mark the passage of time? Does the discus explain either device? Can you read the engravings? Are they words?"
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

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Torsiedelle
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Posts: 18306
Founded: Dec 03, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Postby Torsiedelle » Sun Dec 20, 2015 9:28 pm

The girl's eyes flittered open. She was surprised, and needed to take a moment to take in her surroundings.

"Uh....what?"

Torii slowly sat up. She looked shaken, and began to pat herself down, as if checking something. "How did I...wait, yesterday..."

She looked at Klaus. "I was coming back...I left last month, right? Not cool, Sir."
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New Aksarben
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 12311
Founded: Oct 08, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby New Aksarben » Sun Dec 20, 2015 9:36 pm

Cerillium wrote:LOBBY

"You'll need a place to stay," Volker the Front Desk Cultist sighed, "You're in a dimension far, far away from wherever you call home. We all are. Nobody knows why we're here, though we suspect the landlord, Mr. Demens, has something to do with it."

He eyed the yellow sticky note. "Looks like you're in 9B. That's across the hall from Rmwtyliin Fvvarniimalasaakuuliia. Nice girl. Shorter than her name is long. Mr. Demens will see to it that your apartment is to your liking and contains what you need. You sign, you get a key. And you'll be able to join in the feast upstairs."

He slid a pamphlet* across the desk. It described the Building's various amenities.

Maghrl took a bit to process that, thinking. "Maghrl has no option-choice then." He finally told the cultist, looking over the Pamphlet and reading it, a bit surprised to find it in a language he could understand. So few people knew Squibban, especially non-Squibs! No matter, it was probably something they did here to cater for residents. He flicked through it carefully, making sure to read it all before nodding to the man.

"Maghrl would like-prefer to see-read lease please-yes." He requested with a small smile, reaching into his robes to search his pockets for a writing implement. The Squib knew that there should be one in there somewhere, in his many pockets. He grinned, pulling out what seemed to be an ancient looking pen, yet still more advanced than what most would see. "Feast? What Occasion-Time?" HE asked for confirmation, tilting his head in curiosity.
Happiness is when
what you think,
what you say,
and what you
do are in harmony.
-Gandhi
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Cerillium
Senior P2TM RP Mentor
 
Posts: 12454
Founded: Oct 27, 2012
New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Sun Dec 20, 2015 9:49 pm

ROOF

Klaus' lips pursed at Torii's mild indignation. "Not cool indeed, Miss Tora. It is what it is. A month, you say? Either we're out of sync with the rest of the multiverse, or Demens has no interest in keeping Time."

The knowledge vexed him. A month gone, with no telling what Atosh's men had been up to, nor what transpired without Minerva there to track it. He shook his head and, keen to hear any news of home, he offered his hand to help her from the tub.

"I believe you recall Mr. Sterling the Pony? Apparently Mr. Demens has brought him back as well. Let me get him roused, and then perhaps we can all go downstairs to the feast. Your friends will be eager to see you, and I'm eager to hear your story."


LOBBY

Volker watched the furry xeno as he signed, then accepted the clipboard back and issued a key in its place. "It's a thanksgiving meal of sorts. A way to celebrate the end of harvest season for most cultures. For us? - we're grateful to be alive after landing here. We survived a horrible battle the morning we arrived. A group of us went out today to help the closest inhabited village, and returned successful from what I hear. Mostly, it's an excuse for everyone to gather in fellowship. We have several other new Residents, you see, and several returning Residents."

He glanced up just in time to see the light bulb unscrewing.

"Ah, if you'll kindly step to the left," he chuckled.

A body dropped from the chandelier and tumbled loudly to the floor, narrowly missing the Jedi. Volker peered over the desk. "When it rains, it pours, ja?"

He pushed through more sticky notes until locating the one he needed. Fingers hastily clipped a new lease to the board. Volker raised it then slapped it loudly on the desk surface to break the sleep spell. "Miss Audette Murphy? Ja? Wake up. You are not in Kansas anymore."
Last edited by Cerillium on Sun Dec 20, 2015 9:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

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New Aksarben
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 12311
Founded: Oct 08, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby New Aksarben » Sun Dec 20, 2015 9:59 pm

Cerillium wrote:LOBBY

Volker watched the furry xeno as he signed, then accepted the clipboard back and issued a key in its place. "It's a thanksgiving meal of sorts. A way to celebrate the end of harvest season for most cultures. For us? - we're grateful to be alive after landing here. We survived a horrible battle the morning we arrived. A group of us went out today to help the closest inhabited village, and returned successful from what I hear. Mostly, it's an excuse for everyone to gather in fellowship. We have several other new Residents, you see, and several returning Residents."


Maghrl nodded in understanding and smiled. "Sound-reminds Maghrl of Barterday Feasts on Planet-Home. Feast Celebrate-remembers year's good deals and barters, and give thanks for good junk Discovery. Most Species find strange we celebrate what other call Garbage-junk, but Squib see value in all things, even broken. Broke object-things able to remake into new, or kept-prized for history of object-thing." He grinned brightly before giving the man a bow again, like he had been told to do in thanks as a Jedi. Plus most cultures seemed to accept it as a sign of thanks or deference anyway, was just good manners most of the time!

"How can-get Maghrl to Feast-Place? Would love-enjoy to join in feast-revelry." He stepped aside as requested, his brown robes swishing against the ground as he glanced at the person who fell on the floor. Looked a bit painful, but not too bad. Maghrl however did wonder why the entrance to this place seemed to be from the ceiling. Wasn't that just plain bad design?
Last edited by New Aksarben on Sun Dec 20, 2015 10:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Happiness is when
what you think,
what you say,
and what you
do are in harmony.
-Gandhi
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The BranRiech
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Posts: 31391
Founded: Mar 24, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby The BranRiech » Sun Dec 20, 2015 10:16 pm

"We're ba-ack!" Bran stretched his arms out, his coat wrapped loosely around his waist as he sauntered into the dining room. He'd spent a better part of the day helping to construct the chicken coop outside, and was rightfully exhausted after the fact. His Ushanka though, even for how warm it was, refused to leave Bran's messy head of hair, and was probably fused to his skull after wearing it for so damn long. The man still had several items on his agenda to take care of, but in the mean-time, he found himself the time to simply relax.

The feast might as well have been bonus points by then, considering his original plans were to go and watch some old movies on his DVD player, and maybe make a bowl of ramen. Bran was quite surprised by the hearty feast prepared for everyone, and the sizable gathering of residents as well.

"Oh, well . . ."

His muttering was kept to himself as he stopped for a second, deciding to get some food, descending into the dining room.

--

As Bran passed by, Drova sat still, not hungry enough to engage in the feast that he'd even helped prepare. After Marcus ran off, he decided to stick around and help at least make some food. The poor boy had been taking little nibbles all throughout, and was too stuffed to indulge in some of the food he had a hand in making. Instead of eating, the Pyersai was more focused on the rather addicting feeling of tapping the heel of his shoes on the ground in quick succession, watching his knee bounce around.

"Hello." He mouthed as the former conscript passed him by.

In the empty seat across from him, he could almost picture the smiling form of Torii, as if the two were on a date, still reminded of the time they'd been "Married" after an embarrassing Zalgofest.

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Torsiedelle
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 18306
Founded: Dec 03, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Postby Torsiedelle » Sun Dec 20, 2015 10:21 pm

Besides her cautious and confused behavior, something was a bit off about Torii, though she said nothing about it. Instead, she climbed out of the tub slowly and took her first few steps out onto the roof.

"Yeah, a month.", She said, blinking. "Sterling? Oh, the other pony? I saw him. Cool. I guess I'll, uh, follow him. What about you, Sir?"

.....

The last thing she remembered was seeing them hit a pole....damn poor driving of hers. Her Low Light Vision wasn't too handy at traversing windy roads.

Wait, she was in a room, with a man. Where was her boss? The woman jumped up with surprising speed and drew her pistol. "What's going on, where's the girl?"

Her words came out in English, slurred by a thick Southern accent. Her eyes scanned over her surroundings. This really wasn't in Kansas. She was supposed to be escorting that brat while her sister finished some business. How the hell did she get here from doing that?
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Monfrox
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Posts: 33420
Founded: Mar 25, 2011
Father Knows Best State

Postby Monfrox » Sun Dec 20, 2015 10:24 pm

Brit slumped out of her bed around evening; wiped from the all night inventorying session. She hoped Sandy would at least thank her for doing it like he asked. Still, her body reminded her of a more dire problem: Hunger. She felt weak, the inside of her mouth was coated a layer of hot saliva that was always present when you take extra long naps in the middle of the day, along with a line of drool coming out of the corner of her mouth as she had been sleeping on her side. Her hair had a serious case of bed-head and she was an all around zombie. She managed to change her clothes and brush her hair down for the most part, but she looked dead fucking tired even though she had just woken up. A quick scrubbing with the tooth brush did alright for her morning breath, but not her overall state.

Slowly but surely, she shuffled on out into the hall. She went with the usual jeans, t-shirt, and hat combo outfit that worked very well for her casual look, reenacting her trademark "I'm not a morning person" routine of being dead as a door nail, shuffling along and using the walls to help keep her upright and moving forward. Her communication skills were shot as well. She followed her nose into the dining room table, lazily looked over to Willow and his company, and grunted something that she meant to sound like "Hey" without opening her mouth. They food, or feast as it was, made her perk up a small tad. Just enough to give her back her hand motor skills to grab some food.

She sat next to the beatnik mini-horse that reminded her of that one guy from Iron Giant who she liked quoting sometimes with a plate of sliced honey ham, corn casserole, mashed potatoes, rolls with butter, and a nice big, tall glass of coke. She ruffled his hair before releasing her primal urges and conditioned paramilitary training all into one, channeled effort to scarf down what she had put in front of her. Still, manners were in play with the napkin on her lap, and not chewing with her mouth open while keeping food flying to a nonexistent factor. In minutes, the plate was clean and the glass was empty and refilled once before being drained again. In the wake of the event she called dinner, she shifted back to her normal, full (or mostly) functioning self.
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I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith.
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Tiltjuice
Post Czar
 
Posts: 33943
Founded: Jan 20, 2012
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Tiltjuice » Sun Dec 20, 2015 10:51 pm

At first Chrys hadn't deemed it proper to interrupt. Still, the idea of markings drew her attention, similar as it was to the recent question of runes.

She danced, very nearly, up to the table, slipping her hand into Hans'.

"Hello, I don't think we've met yet. I'm Chrysanthe."
I wear teal, blue, pink & red for Swith. | ✎ Member - ℘ædagog
Discrimination is unworthy. | Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart. -Khalil Gibran

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Cerillium
Senior P2TM RP Mentor
 
Posts: 12454
Founded: Oct 27, 2012
New York Times Democracy

Postby Cerillium » Sun Dec 20, 2015 11:05 pm

ROOF, DINING ROOM

Klaus turned to find the other tub empty. Sterling dashed off already. The Pony was obviously too eager to stick around. "We'll follow him," the avatar shrugged.

He accompanied Torii down the stairs. His keen eyes noticed a slight change in her but, considering she was about to enter a room filled with friends, he said nothing. It was better to spare her the effort of repeating the same story twice.

Rich, savory smells tickled his nose as they stepped onto the second floor. "Minerva and I were hoping to see your sister as well," he offered instead. "I am glad you've come back however. Your friends missed you. Ah, here we are! Let me go in first. I don't have fun very often!"

Klaus stepped into the doorway and clapped his hands to get a little attention from the dining room occupants. "Ladies and Gentlemen, and boys and girls, I have an early Christmas surprise!" He laughed as he stepped aside to reveal Torii behind him.

Rache fell silent as Brit joined them. He watched the human shovel food into her mouth for a while, only glancing away when Klaus appeared. The avatar's smile was typically vibrant, but it slowly fell as Klaus' eyes settled on Giovenith.

Sometimes fate was indeed a bitch.

Chrys' arrival caught Rache off guard, so absorbed was he in Klaus' strange gaze. He looked down at her delicate fingers intertwined with his host's rough hands and, for a brief moment, he wondered if she were introducing herself to him. Did she know? His brow furrowed as he studied her face. No, surely she was speaking to Willow.

"Miss Chrys, this is Willow the Pony. Willow, this is Miss Chrys, one of our Conservators," the daemon politely introduced the pair.


LOBBY

"Maghrl can-get to the feast place by taking that flight of stairs behind, or else the lifts," the cultist pointed out both. "Follow your nose. Can't miss it. And welcome to the Building!"

Audette's alarmed shout drew his attention from the Squib. He sighed. "What's going on is that you have been brought here by Mr. Demens, Miss Murphy. Where you were before you arrived, I can't say. I don't know. What I do know is that you were chosen so you are here. And here is where every chosen person ends up. You have a lease to sign, an apartment to secure, and, if you're hungry, some warm dinner upstairs on the second floor."
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

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Highfort
Minister
 
Posts: 2869
Founded: May 11, 2014
Liberal Democratic Socialists

Postby Highfort » Sun Dec 20, 2015 11:19 pm

"Hm?"

The Judge's eyes panned the room quickly, almost in a panic, before he realized where he was. The group was still before him; the room, still devoid of guards. No time had passed, he realized, yet the meeting had felt so real. Had someone snuck hallucinogenic powder into the envelope? Impossible - surely the sensors would have noticed on the way in and none of his men had the balls to pull an inside job.

A sprinkle of cigar ash on the manila envelope caught his attention and his eyes flicked down. Huh, the Big Boss had a sense of humor after all. A wry grin was the first indication that the Judge was fully back in his Throne Room and he set the envelope on his easy chair, feeling for his revolver and finding it comfortably holstered where it belonged. As much as Mr. Demens had bestowed upon him a boon, the Boss of the Uppers had no interest in going unarmed for too long.

Down went the cell-phone, flipped shut after a call to a wrong number that was hung up right after it was made.

Up went the revolver, hammer cocked back, barrel pointing haphazardly at the ceiling but slowly falling toward the group. His eyes flicked over to Amanda and narrowed as he appraised the lawyer one last time.

Septimus' eyes widened, muscles tensing as he readied for the worst. He couldn't neutralize the Judge without any of his augmentations and he suddenly found himself missing them. Being more human wasn't all it was cracked up to be, after all.

"Mrs. Bela, get your friends and get the fuck out," and down went the gun, back to its holster, much to the cyborg's relief, "I have work to do. Mr. Usseio's contact just saved your asses, but don't go thinking that means you can do whatever you want. I catch you for another fuck-up, I'll make sure you remember who's in charge around here."

"We'll be in contact through my boys," the aging man gestured toward the door behind the ragtag group, granting them leave, "You'll find your stuff in the armory. Ask the guards to show you the way."

A flicker of a finger indicated the Judge was tossing something their way. Septimus' cybernetic eye zeroed in on the little object and he reached out and caught it, palming it for a moment before finding a rune with Demen's markings on it, though slashed with a red splotch of paint through the center.

"My mark," the Judge explained, "So the boys won't think you managed to escape. Only valid in these walls, outside it's defaced currency. Drop it at the entrance on your way out."

"What about the General's armor?" Septimus pocketed the coin beneath his robes before turning toward the door, "I'm guessing you don't control the Border Patrol?"

"You'd be right, except for Officer Kleo," he replied, "We've worked out an arrangement and she's got her pulse on the Uppers. Her and her boys make sure no one causes trouble out here that I don't approve of, so it's her choice on how to deal with his armor. But I told her if anything happens with that madman in it, we're gonna have problems, so don't expect her to do you any favors on that end. I'll call her so she'll be waiting for you outside."

The Love Boxes sprung to life and began to gravitate toward the door slowly, soft creaking indicating their mechanisms were propelling them forward. Septimus followed suit, insisting that the group follow with a curt nod to avoid pissing off the Judge any further.

"You take care now, alright?" the Judge waved them goodbye, a fatherly smile having returned to his face as he stood in the candlelit room, "I got my eyes on you. Especially you, Mrs. Bela - you've got quite a way with your tongue. Make sure it doesn't get cut off."

The group made haste toward the armory, a flash of the marked rune and a knowing nod from the guards getting them on without further trouble. Murmurs rose among those on watch, in astonishment that the visitors hadn't been harmed. Whether the Judge was going soft or the newcomers had something special to offer the Uppers was up for debate still, but their presence was no longer unnoticed. Word spread quickly in the dimly-lit, grimy streets of Urbem Ascalon's slums, and for good and ill the Building's team had just put themselves on the map.

Several moments later and Thaddeus and Romulus were once again walking among the group inside the secure armory, their unpleasant monolithic cages retreating back to the dark, damp storage from whence they'd come. Weapons were reclaimed and devices booted back on. Insidious' sensors were taken off and she was allowed to regain her senses fully, though the guards shivered at her shifting form even as they made their way briskly down the hall.

A quick toss of the token and the front gates opened, the slums of the Uppers a refreshing breath of life after the soulless concrete of Judge's Palace. Septimus quickly scampered out, happy to not spend another moment inside the oppressive fortress.

Kleo stood, posture slightly slanted and eyes speaking of annoyance, though she offered a small smile at her new customers. Her rifle was gone, now replaced with an unassuming, well-worn plasma pistol, though the exoskeleton remained over her blue fatigues. She offered a wave as the group approached before addressing them.

"You bastards caused a lot of trouble for me, you know that?" the statement was accompanied by a chuckle to indicate she wasn't angry, though the annoyed look never left her gaze, "Mr. Usseio, your truck's impounded up the street at the junk yard. I'll get you acquainted and answer any questions on the walk over, but first I think we need to set some ground rules."

"Seems fair enough," Septimus shrugged. They didn't have much of a choice in the matter given that the group was on her and the Judge's turf and, anyways, making trouble so soon after being pardoned was never a good idea.

"No shooting unless you're shot at; that just riles up the locals and makes our job harder when we gotta figure out who shot who, alright? No fun with guns in the street, keep that shit on the range," she recited, beckoning them forward as the hiss of powered hydraulics propelled her down the street, past dark alleyways and buildings with facades that looked fifty-years-too-late to be in-style, "If an officer issues you a command, you comply, no questions and no sassing. This isn't grade school and we're not here to kiss it better. You want that, go talk to Meatboy and buy one his girls. We're here to keep the peace as best we can."

"Deal fair and watch your back, basically?" Septimus hoped they could move onto questions instead of listening to more of this inane babble that wouldn't mean anything in court when the most obscure of laws were brought up, "You mind getting us up to speed on where everything is?"

"That's about right, yeah," Kleo nodded at him approvingly, "Just keep your head and we won't have any issues. I'll let you know where everything is once you got the truck and can get there - the streets all look the same unless you know the familiar landmarks and street corners. Plus we gotta get you up to speed on the main transport system - maze of walkways and ramps that makes up a multilevel highway. That's all for the next lecture, you got any quicker questions?"
Last edited by Highfort on Mon Dec 21, 2015 4:44 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Torsiedelle
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Posts: 18306
Founded: Dec 03, 2010
Democratic Socialists

Postby Torsiedelle » Sun Dec 20, 2015 11:24 pm

"Uh-huh, yeah, okay.", Audette nodded sarcastically. "And'ya see, the thing there is that I understand what you're saying, right? But, uh, I never heard of no Mr. Demens, and I don't wanna be chosen for anything, so I'm just gonna go and get out of here. So, have you seen the girl I was with so we can get out of here? Blonde, blue-eyed, Russian? Because I ain't too keen on waking up in weird buildings with..."

She eyed Maghrl. "Whatever you are, Bub. Look, I ain't really sure what's going on, but I'm not opposed to shooting my way out, I just wanna get my boss and get out of here."

.........

Torii froze up for a moment as she looked back at the group in the dining room. So, she had only been gone a day or something? That would be hard to explain. She hadn't seen them in a while, and she had experienced some strange things in that time that would have made her a different person. She didn't even know how to go about jumping into the scene anymore.

She noticed Drova and gulped.
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Ex-Nation

Postby New Aksarben » Sun Dec 20, 2015 11:28 pm

Maghrl nodded, wincing a bit as the new human started shouting about a girl or something. Wasn't quite his business so he respectfully kept to his own business and nodded again to the human manning the counter. "Much thanks, Desk-Human." He said with a grin, before bounding off to the elevators and calling them. Or he would have if the other human hadn't spoken to him first. "Maghrl is Squib. And Knight-Jedi. Not threat-worry for human." The small jedi told her with a roll of his eyes, before properly setting off to the elevator.

He was quite eager to enjoy a feast. Seemed like a good time as any to get to a new place. And who knew what kind of things they'd have here! HE had no idea what kind of technology they possessed on this planet(or indeed what to even call it). Maybe it was a whole new planet that he'd made first contact with on behalf of the New Order! Maghrl had no idea. But just the same the small Jedi stepped onto the lift and, making sure his cloak was all inside of it, pressed the button for the floor he needed and started up to join the feast.

-------

Sterling had dashed into the dining room a bit before Klaus's arrival in the room. He'd basically been sitting in the area just past the doorway intently looking for Willow in the group assembled. You'd think that a pony would be quite easy to see, but the pegasi's coloring worked against Sterling's eyes as he peered through his glasses. Finding Grey on grey in a room was always hard, even if it was a bright and vibrant one. Plus the heavenly smell of the food was oh so distracting! Sterling had the bad habit of getting caught up in his work or reading and forgetting meals. In fact he wasn't sure if he'd even eaten yet today. Did he have that waffle today or yesterday... Yeah it was yesterday, the pony figured. Then he facehoofed softly. Getting distracted, focus on finding Willow! He thought to himself.

As much as he tried he couldn't find the pony right now. Well, he couldn't go too far. Might as well put off their reunion for now, and get some food. The pony could always keep searching later, once he'd properly eaten! So as a result he trotted over to go find food, at least kinds of food he'd be able to stomach, which meant exclusively vegetarian, just about! HE wasn't an omnivore after all, that'd be strange, to be an omnivorous pony.
Last edited by New Aksarben on Sun Dec 20, 2015 11:34 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Left-wing Utopia

Postby Giovenith » Mon Dec 21, 2015 12:09 am

Willow would have explained further to Rache about the antiques, but was soon caught up swishing his head this way and that as both Chrys and Brit arrived on scene. He frowned and set his hair back into place after Brit (again) messed with it, and turned to receive Chrys' introductions.

"Pleased to meet you Miss Chrys," Willow returned with equal politeness, setting the discus down among the other two antiques. He made sure they were close together on the table so as not to fall off. "I've heard a little bit about you, all good things. This is Brit, by the way..."

He didn't notice the antiques begin to gently shake.


"Torii!" Giovenith squealed in delight, scrambling from her spot by the window and running over to hug her friend. Her cheer wasn't as big as it could have been, but that was only because of her sheer surprise at her friend being back so soon. For some reason, she'd expected the girl's departure to be much longer. Had they forgotten something? "You're back again! So soon! Why so soon?"
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