NATION

PASSWORD

Welcome To Harkback Union - En Charactére

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Harkback Union
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 17366
Founded: Sep 01, 2012
Civil Rights Lovefest

Welcome To Harkback Union - En Charactére

Postby Harkback Union » Thu Sep 01, 2022 9:02 am

Image

A Nation Exploration RPG

Main Theme

Taxi to OOC

Starting location is in Duwall
(See map below)


Cast

Characters added after their first IC Post.

Enora Léon
Image
9-6-4-7-4
1x Utility belt with holsters for a variety of tools and weapons (empty)
1x Pair of black weighted knuckle gloves
1x Pair of black steel toed military boots
1x Canteen full of water
1x Small canvas bag with hygiene products
5x Sets of Lingerie (in small canvas bag)
1x first aid kit (in small canvas bag)
1x Military uniform with kevlar padding over critical organs
1x pair of military knee pads
1x pair of military elbow pads
2x utility knuckle knives


-

Isaiah B. Winslow
Image
5-6-9-7-3-1
Craving +1
- A suitcase of clothes
Wallet with no money but Social security card, ID, and a picture of his family faded out slightly
A pocket notebook with a couple of pencils
One piece of paper with a recipe called "Winslow Last Meal"
A wristwatch

Baron's Death Note


-

Isabella de Tervain
Image
6-2-8-5-9
Nobility
U-Bahn Pass
S-Bahn Pass
K-Bahn Pass
Z-Bahn Pass
E-Bahn Pass
F-Bahn Pass
Nobility
Xavier
99999 -M-
Harkback Identity Card
- One (1) Electrum-Plated Mechanical Wristwatch
-Twenty-Seven (27) Notes of Currency of Unclear Value and Unknown Origin with Unknown Script
- Six (6) Gold Coins of Varying Size and Unclear Issue
- Two (2) Pairs of Heeled Shoes
- One (1) Pair of Boots
- One (1) Pair of Shoes
- Two (2) Evening Dresses
- One (1) Set of Travelling Clothes
- One (1) Set of Hunter's Clothes
- One (1) Magnificently-Feathered Hat
- One (1) Auroch-Fur Coat
- One (1) Sapphire Pendant On Gold Chain
- One (1) Pair of Gold and Sapphire Earrings
- Zero (0) Notebook Containing Unclear Scribbling
- One (1) Partially-Used Pencil
- One (1) Large Iron-Banded Trunk Case
- One (1) Small Leather Handbag
- One (1) Gun Case
- One (1) Long Hunting Rifle, with Optical Scope and Five (5) Bullets
- One (1) Square Piece of Camouflage Netting and Four (4) Poles
- Miscellaneous Mundane Travelling Items Such As But Not Limited To Brushes, Toothpaste and Brush, Cosmetics etc


-

Xu Feng
Image
1-6-6-9-1-7
Technical Design
Wristwatch. Looks normal but has multiple technological applications (thanks to nanite tech). These include:
  • a holographic image emitter;
  • a laser (extremely short range - a foot, but powerful enough to cut through 2 feet of steel, more useful as an emergency blowtorch than a weapon);
  • an entropy field (makes non-biological materials age, decay and devolve around him - doesn't effect him or about a half foot from him, field moves as he moves, etc.) The field's effects begin instantaneously and materials get worse the more time they spend in this field. It extends to a five foot radius of Dr. Xu when activated.
  • Comms system - can send messages to starships, as well as make common telephone calls.
  • A thin energy armor field surrounds the watch to prevent it from destruction. Xu's more likely to lose an arm than see this thing melt.
  • (I'm sure there are more inventions and tech applications I'd like, but I just can't think of them. If this is ok to have kind of a swiss army knife, OP, then I'm requesting it here)
  • All powered by the... unusual Talchyonite means of generating energy from the motions of living fish. Due to this, Dr. Xu's watch also includes a huge aquarium with hundreds of fish, shrunk 1/10,000th of a degree, but still fully operational. All the fish are able to swim inside the watch. Pressurized, with automatic feeders and cleaners, so he doesn't have to worry it.

Wallet (carries ID, not much else. Xu, like all Talchyonites, spends his credits using the chips implanted into him at birth, just by having his hand scanned at various stores he shops at).

Glasses - can also magnify. Helps because of his decreasing eyesight.

scratch paper and erasable pens.

Small calculator - more so to prove to others his mental math is right.


-

Sir Winthrop
Image
5-2-6-7-2-8
Eldritch Machinist
Gregor

The Cane of the Imperial | A richly inlaid walking stick of deepest ebony wood, its provenance is unknown, but it's history is evident. An heirloom of the House of Eddleton, it has been passed down from generation to generation, coming to Winthrop on his sixteenth birthday as a sign of the heir of the House. It is topped in a Damascene steel wolf snarling, the symbol of the House, forged from the metal of melted Ottomite blades. The sturdy wood of the cane has proven unbreakable by many dire forces over the years, and it is a formidable close combat weapon when wielded with strength. During Winthrop's tenure it has been modified to incorporate an exotic projectile device issuing from the lower end of the black shaft, one which throws molten lead at a speed that can take off heads or limbs at medium range. Exactly how it functions Winthrop can't recall, for he has never had to reload it nor found it to misfire, despite being fouled with grass, dirt, and even not physically accessible through a locked vault door. It is technology of a different age, an age of space and insane entertainment squids.
The Void-Speaker | An odd weapon, a projectile gun many times more powerful than the bolt-action rifles of strange worlds, when Winthrop was summoned to this world he bore it aloft. As large as a normal man's torso, an odd device that belches smoke and flame at irregular intervals, the Void-Speaker is a horrifying weapon that gives even the most hardened of assailants pause. Maybe magic, maybe mundane, it is rumored it is powered by the worship of mechanical beings from another time and place, an Aspect of potentially terrible power. The searing bolts of crimson it throws at the Scion's touch can rend head from body, and body from existence of even the most dangerous beasts. The sound of its firing is the wail of a hundred thousand damned souls, and a whispered Altamont.
Sally | A body-suit of flesh mottled with living metal bonded to the Hierarch's corporeal form. Rumored to have once been the body of a lover, or a thousand pieces of those the Orator has laid low. Emits intermittent bursts of steam and flame, but is shod in a silken waistcoat and long dapper slacks.
Various small ingots of precious metals, for bribes and assorted expenses.


-

Annar Inkerman
Image
4-5-6-8-7
The Cough
Le Monkey
-Voltiger-Underhill Mk. IV Mechanical-Typewriter: Precisely what it sounds like, this remarkably handy typewriter is the favorite of many a world-wary journalist, wandering letter-author and sleazy bureaucrat from Graad to Sur-la-Cleffe. Wherever those places might be. As it is, Annar purchased one of these scarcely a moon’s turn before his departure for the Harkback Union. In retrospect, perhaps the newly-minted refugee was not thinking too clearly – but it did seem a darn shame to leave it behind. At any rate, its handy design and easily settable typeface enables its user to dictate just about any variety of word, phrase or ink-born language symbol down upon the page of any sheaf of sufficiently paper-y paper wedged into its holding-clamps. Back in the realm of the Suzerain, this typewriter was intended to further the young man’s nascent career as an author or even budding bureaucrat. Here? Well. Time will tell.

-Gendarme-issue Patrol Boots: Several styles of these remarkably durable boots are marketed abroad as ‘Solid Footwear’; no doubt intended for gruff men and poised women with serious outlooks on life and rough, demanding professions. Back in the former Suzerain’s realm, they’re reportedly part of the standard uniform for the officers of the Pedestrian Control division of the Commune’s Civil Protection force. What precisely Annar is doing with a pair of these is anyone’s guess – but if the quality of their leather is anything to go by, they’re still fairly new. And also quite likely remarkably uncomfortable to wear. Their most malign feature, at least as far as their owner is concerned, is the remarkably tall and hard-as-boiled-leather edge of their shin-guards. They’re mean enough to bite at Annar’s shins every time he mounts a staircase or turns a corner – and frankly, it’s beginning to hurt. Rather a lot.

-A Persistent Case of the Sniffles: Not so much a physical object, this – but perhaps of some interest to the Harkback Union’s customs officials none the less. Blame it on the journey’s stress, his generally lacking physique or perhaps one too many brisk evening walks along the ocean-liner’s spray-worn decks – but alas. Annar has a cough. One that rattles and shakes his chest, bites at his lungs and tears at his throat. And the sniffles! Whatever this malady is, its has surely made the young man’s nose a wet, leaking, snotty thing. Annar, however, tells himself it’s nothing to do but truckle on. Grit his teeth. After all – what else can he do?


-

Sahara Amrani
Image
1-6-6-4-4-9
Living Lie Detector
- A pair of goggles to protect her eyes from sand and improve her vision.
- 5 golden dinar, Ushad's currency
- Silver bracelets from her mother that, unbeknownst to her, contain a honing device
- A statuette of a woman in flowing robes that appears to be solid gold
- A knapsack containing basic necessities (tissues, deodorant, etc.)


-

Vasily Obraztsov
Image
8-8-7-4-3
-Standard Issue East Vasovian Rucksack: Ah, glory to Vasovia! The ever-present companion of the Vasovian infantryman. Made in the typical style of true Vasovian factorywork - cheap nylon material, bland khaki color, uneven stitching. This sad thing is stained with dried liquor and cigarette ash.

-Vasovian Field Uniform: A relic of a nation on the brink of destruction. One olive green pair of pants, one long-sleeved brownish shirt. A pair of well worn-in military boots.

-Imported Arztotskan Wrench: A long, hefty piece of steel. "For mechanic work." he says. "Used to be a tank repairman." he continues with the lie, smiling stiffly. If this hadn't been washed thoroughly, customs would never let this through...

-Vasovian Civilian Clothing: Scratchy undergarments, a thick coat, black gloves, pairs of nondistinctive pants and shirts.

-Citizen's Identification Card: 4041 ANN, 6th Bylontav. Second District's People's Clinic, Melnikoff, Vasovia. You can almost smell the scent of inefficient bureaucracy emanating from this worn plastic card, if you get close enough.

-Two Thousand Lira: These bills, marked with the stiff visages of brave patriots, used to be worth something in the Homeland. Now cigarettes and bullets are currency instead.

-Pack of Western Smokes: Ah, a pack of Zebras. Terrible on the lungs, but pleasant on the lips - for a short time, at least. Nothing tastes quite as good as contraband, after all.


-

Luciano San Tomas
Image
3-5-7-8-7
Antonia
-9mm pistol
-a silver chalice
-a trunk of clothing
-a Catholic Bible in Spanish
-30 9mm rounds
-general hygenie products (razor, deoderant, toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, soap, etc)
-utility knife
-pocket magnetic chess set
-stationary, pens, paper, etc.
-camoflage passport
-walking cane that conceals sword
-bnig rolling backpack
-Rosary beads
-Sawed off shotgun with ample buckshot
-Deck of playing cards
-Book of legal principles


-

Eliodora
2-2-7-7-3-9
Image
Temporal Authority
Aethergold Pocketwatch | Glimmering unnaturally in the pale twilight of the Union, this pocketwatch ticks loudly with each passing second - a strangely constant delimiter in a realm where time's very flow is fluid. Perhaps the watch itself has a hand in that flow?
Robes of the Endless Void | Thin and wispy fabric, darker than any black that a mortal has ever laid eyes upon. Its origins are unknown, but some say that the greatest scholars of the Shattered Tower were granted such robes only in their fifth eternity of service.
Eliadora's Handbag | A ruby red handbag that always appears to be empty, until its wearer has need of a specific object - then, sometimes, that object will mysteriously appear inside it. The only person who might have any inkling how the bag works is Eliadora herself... and she isn't telling.
Eliadora has a few coins and bills from civilizations past and future tucked away in her robes, unsure if they'll have any value within the borders of the Union.


-

Marie
Image
9-9-3-6-3
Z-Bahn Pass
Last edited by Harkback Union on Tue Sep 20, 2022 2:55 pm, edited 31 times in total.

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Harkback Union
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 17366
Founded: Sep 01, 2012
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Harkback Union » Thu Sep 01, 2022 4:04 pm

MAP


Image


LÉGENDE

U-Bahn - A-Bahn - S-Bahn - K-Bahn - Z-Bahn - E-Bahn - F-Bahn


Neu-Babel

Image


An attrociously planned maze of steel and concrete towers intertwined with skybridges and multi-level autobahn junctions built around the offices of the Central Authorization Bureau. Initially, a 3 storey office complex in the ancient renori style surrounded by statue gardens, fountain parks and hedgerow mazes constructed at the turn of the last century to keep a few hundred officials busy with relatively unimportant paperwork, the bureaucratic boom a decade later led the CAB to gobble up all available land area nearby for new administrative wings, and when the ground ran out, begun to reach for the sky, explonentially. Any trace of nature or vegetation was long paved over for the foundations of the largests man-made structures within the union, the floors of which are best left uncounted. Since the speed of harkback bureaucracy is inversely proportional to the distance to the CAB, office space in its neighborhood has gone beyond pricing. Every industrial syndicate, airship company and ice cream parlor has at least some of its offices located here, even though competition for floor space here is so fierce that representatives often have to put up with double decker cubicles, tube-sharing and dangerously fast elevator rides. One unique weather phenomena seen rarely elsewhere in the world, are the paper rains. At the end of each administrative cycle, expired documentation is thrown out office windows in industrial quantities. Despite numerous laws prohibiting this practice, enforcement has been lacking, especially since during the hours of paper rain, the Sentinel's bureau is the single greatest contributor.

Yoshiwara


UNDISCOVERED

Katzstadt


UNDISCOVERED

Kultgarten

Image


The headquarters of the harkback cult. An entire district of vertical cathedrals and mausoleums crowned by lush skygardens with direct K-bahn connections. One of the most pleasant and cleanest parts of the union. Apartments here are exceptionally popular, but a cult decree prevents towers from rising above the spires of the Kathedrale der Träume, the largest of them all. The Harkback faith, if one can call it such, is made of an uncanny fusion of science, politics and superstition, dictated by a long line of prophets with a rare medical condition that allowed them to retain their full awareness in dreams. The last of said prophets, Helenore, who died after receiving mortal wounds while attempting to mediate in religious riot is regarded as a martyr and the religious symbol, her statues found almost everywhere in the district.

LOCATIONS

1st Precinct. - Home of the sentinel's bureau, a state-wide semi-religious authority responsible for policing, firefighting, counterespionage, anti-corruption and home defense.

Roxton


UNDISCOVERED

Maaplenn


UNDISCOVERED

Palais-Cloqbern


UNDISCOVERED

Ernwort


UNDISCOVERED

Renoire


UNDISCOVERED

Eindaam


UNDISCOVERED

Charlottengrad

Image


A Classy Industrial Neighborhood. Apartments offer great views of rusting rustic industrial parks, smokestacks and S-bahn lines. The stink of pollution is alleviated with flower scented aerosols to great effect. Charlottengrad has several large technical schools and its own chamber orchestra. Steel, precision machining and weather control are the main exports.

LOCATIONS
Stal'nayastraße street: - Modest apartment towers built around the eclectic S-Bahn line and the Charlottengrad metal works. An outdated tram system connects local factories to these homes. No tickets required.

UNDISCOVERED

Dunnrhof

Image


What arrives in Dunnrhof, stays in Dunnrhof, or so goes the old saying. 1500 ships used to dock here, now its a hoard town. What merchant city could survive after banning exports? This one did. You could find everything in Dunnrhof. You could even buy it, but they wouldn't let you take it away... or at least, it was so for centuries. After the formation of the union, Dunnrhof was forced to lift the ban on cargo leaving its borders and a great bridge was built across the bay to connect it with the rest of the metroplex. But it wasn't the cargo that would leave Dunnrhof, it was the people. Its grand markets lay left in disrepair for almost a century now, but all the old junk, its still there all right. Silos full of spice and charcoal lay undiscovered in this treasure trove of a port. Entire collections of thousand year old porcelain vases. A perfect place to disappear in, or make someone else disappear. Don't get the wrong impression though, Dunnrhof is a vibrant place. There are still people left from the old guard, and some new arrivals too. You just don't ever see them.

Mottow


UNDISCOVERED

Duwall


Image


Tribes of heavy duty cranes wait in ambush over the banks of the great ocean, ready to rob any vessel of their precious cargo the moment they enter port. Behind them, rows of red brick warehouses truck depots wait patiently for the next catch. To lure ships in, a lighthouse built on an aging steel skeleton shines its golden light across the twilight bay. Not far off the cargo docks, a mesmerising art nouveau terminal building stretches its wooden piers well into the sea. The ocean liner Ella Dorina, is anchored here.

LOCATIONS

Duwall International Zeeport - A place for unloading foreigners and preparing them for life in the greater harkback metroplex. A series of stairs and corridors and more stairs lead arrivals to a brightly lit baggage collection station, where their luggage appears almost as quickly as they arrive, and also disappears as quickly as it speeds past in a network of conveyor belts that outpace most byciclists. After about half an hour, most passengers are typically able to collect most of their luggage, or find something suitable as a replacement from the conveyor belts. From there, an elevator takes passengers back to where they started. After realizing the elevator was a shortcut all along, they may choose to return to the baggage station and eventually find an elusive door painted the same color as most walls and opens only when a person stands directly in front of it. This is the way to the customs, health inspection and alien integration office, all of which must be visited in that order, if someone wants to legally enter the Harkback Union.

Hint: As an action, you may visit customs, or if legality does not concern you, you may use an EXPLORE action to find another way out of here. You may also return to the Ella Dorina

Ella Dorina - A magnificent economy-class luxury ocean liner. That is to say, immeasurably mediocre. Your cabin is still at your disposal. There is a bar and restaurant, and small theater, which is currently off-limits because its a crime scene.



Zadox


Image


The old financial district, A former city of wealth and liberty, the birthplace of greed. A stairwell formed by ever rising towers grows out from the coastline, built in the unique style of Decorative Brutalism. Recurring set of geometric concrete shapes with a hint of harkback art give this district a unified look. There isn't much industry left here, but what there is is high value. Pollution is relatively low. There are even a few parks here and there. But, zadox is an outlier in many other ways. Long forgotten currencies of the old countries still exchange hands here, and even though the district is not connected to the K-bahn network, it has its own cable car lines built between its highest towers.

There is a strong religious community in Zadox, the 2nd largest in the metroplex. The dark history of religious conflicts left deep scars in its peoples, leaving many to cherish their old faiths and keep the flame burning through centuries. Cathedrals and Religious Colleges are a common sight here, but not as common as banks.


LOCATIONS

Windfall Avenue. High-rise apartments for low-ranking officials, sometimes with a seaside view.
Last edited by Harkback Union on Fri Sep 16, 2022 3:50 pm, edited 23 times in total.

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Lunas Legion
Post Czar
 
Posts: 30722
Founded: Jan 21, 2013
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Lunas Legion » Mon Sep 12, 2022 10:04 am

Isabella de Tervain, ??:??
Duwall International Zeeport - Duwall


The time on the face of her watch did not match the sky, and wasn't that delightfully infuriating. Just another irritation to add to the long, long list of irritations that had plagued this particular voyage of hers. Between the, frankly, atrocious entertainment provided, the so-called 'food' that had been provided and cabins that deserved to be burned for the crimes against the comfort of passengers in general and her in particular that they had committed, it had been quite the odyssey.

But the odyssey was over now, and here she was. The terminal building was pleasing to the eye with its styling, but as she made her way through it, she could not help but wonder if the entire architectual budget for it had been spent on the exterior, given the utterly labrynthine nature of the interior with its stairs and corridors and the extremely fast baggage collection station which seemed to almost take delight in displaying hers in front of her, only to swiftly snatch it away from her grasp.

Truly, she should have brought along a maid to handle all this dreadful business instead of needing to deal with it herself. Alas, she had not.

After perhaps twenty-five minutes, at least according to her watch that didn't match the sky, she had claimed her own belongings back from the infernal machine. Now, just getting into this... Hermit state of a nation, preferably with all of her belongings, because who even knew what they considered 'illegal' in this part of the world. And judge whether all this effort was, in the end, worth it.

Action - Visit Customs
Last edited by William Slim Wed Dec 14 1970 10:35 pm, edited 35 times in total.

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Ralnis
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 28126
Founded: Aug 06, 2012
Father Knows Best State

Postby Ralnis » Mon Sep 12, 2022 10:41 am

Isaiah B. Winslow,
On Board the Ella Dorina
Time Unit 1 HU


A dream. An art piece came to life. Depression filled the skies and the color bleed from the very concrete. Even those colors of brass and patina were muted by neon lights too bright for the American to accept. He waited in line for his luggage among the hundreds who also waited for their possessions. To him, it was thinking that he was nothing but a number as the machine spirits of industry moved further apace without any rest.

As minutes moved on and people grabbed their affects from the conveyor belt, Isaiah couldn't help to keep looking up. The skyline was shrouded by an urban sprawl that was shrouded by the dense clouds of smog. It gave the city a infinite drawl that be remembered his college telling him on that fateful day.

Though, even now, third and fourth personal information was nothing compared to the fear he has when he sees the visage thar seemed to swallow all that entered. It was only after a person bumped into him did his mind came back to reality.

"Oh, I'm sorry" Isaiah gave out a quick apology as he grabbed his luggage and followed the line of people towards the mysterious door that opens for a person and a person alone. The door was a heavy thing, moved fast like a mechanical viper with a man that snapped open-and-shut. The curious man let his mind wander at the mystery beyond the door. What agents lie, what paper pushers or strange, mysterious rules and customs he broke without even knowing.

These questions built up like a rising wave. The same storm that wracked through the waves as the ship broke through. Still, Winslow was not an ironclad, he was a man. A hollow man that couldn't stomach the dred of the grinding metal of the door. So his mind wondered as he walked in line. Remembered thar baron he never knew. Died in the small theater like Licon at Ford's Theater.

His body got closet to the point where he needed to go to the door and he walked away. His curiosity of the ship and the murder bit him like a dog on a piece of meat. Another of the passengers took his place as he walked to the only haven of familiarity in this strange land. It didn't take long to head back to the ship, his mind focused to get back to the bunk cabin of first class.

The ship was nearly empty of the sea of familiar faces, only crewmen and the authorities that were investigating the crime. The empty feeling was in his bunk. Which held him and 3 other people was just him. Him and his mind which was afraid of the very country that he wanted to explore and see. It was the same fear that nearly kept himself to do one last gamble on a one-way adventure.

Still, as he put the suitcase on the now empty bed, Curiosity barks at him. The dog speaks of the baron and the murder. The only interesting thing that happened on the ship. A break from the near-death storms and the near-death thoughts. It was the one thing that made Isaiah wish to at least know the man before his untimely death. Maybe the killer was still there or has already left.

Maybe, just maybe...

Isaiah closes his suitcase and shook his head.

"This is a stupid idea. You're no investigator. You have a masters in communications for Christ's sake. Just because you wanted to be a daring adventurer doesn't mean interfering in someone else's work."

However, as he put on his wristwatch and tie his shoes, he saw the dog of Curiosity make sure that he was listening to his barks. In the corner of his eye he also saw another. A black dog that was sleeping. Large and menacing even at peace. The dark hound of Craving that always awaiting to wake and rip apart Isaiah's mind if he didn't have his food.

The communication fellow instinctively gulped as he saw the hound. When he did, a dryness was felt and his fingertips lightly brushed his throat.

He looked at the door and his watch. The time was off and he sighed.

"I guess I can go for a drink at least."

A happy bark came from Curiosity.

Action: Go to the bar on the ship and try to listen to any rumors concerning the Baron and his murder. Any leads that one could investigate.
This account must be deleted. The person behind it is a racist, annoying waste of life that must be shunned back to whatever rock he crawled out from.

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Harkback Union
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 17366
Founded: Sep 01, 2012
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Harkback Union » Mon Sep 12, 2022 10:51 am

Lunas Legion wrote:Isabella de Tervain, ??:??
Duwall International Zeeport - Duwall


The time on the face of her watch did not match the sky, and wasn't that delightfully infuriating. Just another irritation to add to the long, long list of irritations that had plagued this particular voyage of hers. Between the, frankly, atrocious entertainment provided, the so-called 'food' that had been provided and cabins that deserved to be burned for the crimes against the comfort of passengers in general and her in particular that they had committed, it had been quite the odyssey.

But the odyssey was over now, and here she was. The terminal building was pleasing to the eye with its styling, but as she made her way through it, she could not help but wonder if the entire architectual budget for it had been spent on the exterior, given the utterly labrynthine nature of the interior with its stairs and corridors and the extremely fast baggage collection station which seemed to almost take delight in displaying hers in front of her, only to swiftly snatch it away from her grasp.

Truly, she should have brought along a maid to handle all this dreadful business instead of needing to deal with it herself. Alas, she had not.

After perhaps twenty-five minutes, at least according to her watch that didn't match the sky, she had claimed her own belongings back from the infernal machine. Now, just getting into this... Hermit state of a nation, preferably with all of her belongings, because who even knew what they considered 'illegal' in this part of the world. And judge whether all this effort was, in the end, worth it.

Action - Visit Customs


Isabella de Tervain
Customs

Daring - d20 (number of items makes it harder)
19 - Failure

Isabella is among the last to secure all of her baggage. By the time she arrives at customs, an impossibly long queue already snakes before the entrance. This might take awhile, and there are no bars, newsstand or bathrooms in sight. To make matters worse, the gentleman behind Isabella, one of the few who took even longer then her to secure his baggage is extremely impatient. Dressed in a brown trenchcoat, brown hat and clutching an even browner leather suitcase in hand, he is constantly trying to cut ahead in line using every trick in the book.

Luck: 67
Hint: 1 is best, 100 is worst

All of the sudden, the man behind Isabella darts away. This moment of relief doesn't last long however, as several uniformed figures appear from the other direction. They are taking a glance at everyone's luggage. They stop at Isabella, take off their shaded glasses and begin to speak in perfect Elbarian.

Image

"Madame.
Come with us."


They pick up most of her luggage and lead Isabella to a side corridor, which ends in a spacious room.

Image

NEW LOCATION DISCOVERED
- Special customs office -

A needlessly large table surrounded by emotionless officers await isabella inside. They begun pouring out her luggage on the table, and taking count of each and every item...

Meanwhile, the man who spoke before turns to her with a small notepad and pencil in hand and begins asking questions.

"Who are you?"
"Where are you from?"
"What is it like over there?"
"What was your previous occupation?"
"What is the reason for your visit to the H.U.?"
"Do you know a man named Saturn?"


Code: Select all
Note: you may cross out part my posts if you wish to branch from an earlier point (because you wanted to do something I didn't give time for in my reply) and continue from there.
Last edited by Harkback Union on Mon Sep 12, 2022 10:53 am, edited 3 times in total.

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Harkback Union
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 17366
Founded: Sep 01, 2012
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Harkback Union » Mon Sep 12, 2022 11:17 am

Ralnis wrote:
Isaiah B. Winslow,
On Board the Ella Dorina
Time Unit 1 HU


A dream. An art piece came to life. Depression filled the skies and the color bleed from the very concrete. Even those colors of brass and patina were muted by neon lights too bright for the American to accept. He waited in line for his luggage among the hundreds who also waited for their possessions. To him, it was thinking that he was nothing but a number as the machine spirits of industry moved further apace without any rest.

As minutes moved on and people grabbed their affects from the conveyor belt, Isaiah couldn't help to keep looking up. The skyline was shrouded by an urban sprawl that was shrouded by the dense clouds of smog. It gave the city a infinite drawl that be remembered his college telling him on that fateful day.

Though, even now, third and fourth personal information was nothing compared to the fear he has when he sees the visage thar seemed to swallow all that entered. It was only after a person bumped into him did his mind came back to reality.

"Oh, I'm sorry" Isaiah gave out a quick apology as he grabbed his luggage and followed the line of people towards the mysterious door that opens for a person and a person alone. The door was a heavy thing, moved fast like a mechanical viper with a man that snapped open-and-shut. The curious man let his mind wander at the mystery beyond the door. What agents lie, what paper pushers or strange, mysterious rules and customs he broke without even knowing.

These questions built up like a rising wave. The same storm that wracked through the waves as the ship broke through. Still, Winslow was not an ironclad, he was a man. A hollow man that couldn't stomach the dred of the grinding metal of the door. So his mind wondered as he walked in line. Remembered thar baron he never knew. Died in the small theater like Licon at Ford's Theater.

His body got closet to the point where he needed to go to the door and he walked away. His curiosity of the ship and the murder bit him like a dog on a piece of meat. Another of the passengers took his place as he walked to the only haven of familiarity in this strange land. It didn't take long to head back to the ship, his mind focused to get back to the bunk cabin of first class.

The ship was nearly empty of the sea of familiar faces, only crewmen and the authorities that were investigating the crime. The empty feeling was in his bunk. Which held him and 3 other people was just him. Him and his mind which was afraid of the very country that he wanted to explore and see. It was the same fear that nearly kept himself to do one last gamble on a one-way adventure.

Still, as he put the suitcase on the now empty bed, Curiosity barks at him. The dog speaks of the baron and the murder. The only interesting thing that happened on the ship. A break from the near-death storms and the near-death thoughts. It was the one thing that made Isaiah wish to at least know the man before his untimely death. Maybe the killer was still there or has already left.

Maybe, just maybe...

Isaiah closes his suitcase and shook his head.

"This is a stupid idea. You're no investigator. You have a masters in communications for Christ's sake. Just because you wanted to be a daring adventurer doesn't mean interfering in someone else's work."

However, as he put on his wristwatch and tie his shoes, he saw the dog of Curiosity make sure that he was listening to his barks. In the corner of his eye he also saw another. A black dog that was sleeping. Large and menacing even at peace. The dark hound of Craving that always awaiting to wake and rip apart Isaiah's mind if he didn't have his food.

The communication fellow instinctively gulped as he saw the hound. When he did, a dryness was felt and his fingertips lightly brushed his throat.

He looked at the door and his watch. The time was off and he sighed.

"I guess I can go for a drink at least."

A happy bark came from Curiosity.

Action: Go to the bar on the ship and try to listen to any rumors concerning the Baron and his murder. Any leads that one could investigate.


The bar is thick with smoke and jazz. The radio is on, and the latest tunes from Yoshiwara and Katzstadt play on full volume. With the passengers gone, staff now fill the bar to grab a coffee or two before their shore leave begins. Some of them are already dressed in civilian clothes. Isaiah managed to blend in relatively well, but the loud music is not helping him overhear much. At least the drinks is on the house. A bottle of refreshing, ice cold fox-wine helps Isaiah get in the mood for espionage.

CURIOSITY: d10
10 - Failure
(10% chance, so sorry!)


A few officers are discussing something seemingly important, judging by their faces.
"Taxi to the coast... doctors think he's toast..."
Its only scraps, and it may have been just song lyrics.

Luck: 96

"Mister... Winslow?"

Image

Its the stewardess, holding a writing board in hand. Isaiah met her only briefly, when he got on board. She showed him to his room. Now, she's here to show him off the boat?

"We arrived at our destination sir."
"Can I help you with anything?"
"You can stay aboard for the next 10 hours, but we'll need you to empty your room by then so we can begin cleaning... unless you have a return ticket."


Code: Select all
Craving increased by 1
Last edited by Harkback Union on Mon Sep 12, 2022 11:30 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Talchyon
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5696
Founded: May 05, 2016
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Talchyon » Mon Sep 12, 2022 11:49 am

Duwall International Zeeport
Customs
Dr. Feng Xu


Jet lag was not as bad as he thought it would be. Of course, changing time zones on the curious Ella Dorina ship was nothing compared to teleporting back in time at least a millenium and several centuries to boot. Now that was jet lag!

The older Asian man had actually gotten used to this living in the past bit. Sure, the first days were rough when he was certain that he had been hallucinating, dreaming, or in some psychotic mind test. But being observant, and highly logical, Dr. Feng Xu had ruled out the impossibilities and that had only left him with what option remained, which was that he was a time traveler now. Curious. He had expected some kind of reverse F3 wave function at the least, but there had been nothing. One moment, he had been in his lab in Nemo, working on a nanite program. The next moment, he was sitting in a bunk on a ship on a sea. He wasn't used to seeing the surface. Few Talchyonites went up. But it was clear that wherever he was was no longer in Talchyon with its radioactive storms. The weather that day was pleasant. Gray clouds (!) showered a gentle rain in a cool morning. He had never seen a genuine cloud before, though he had seen lab-made reproductions for experiments.

Apparently, two days before he had arrived, a man had been murdered on the ship. At first he was detained since the authorities suspected Xu of being a stowaway. But after some paper shuffling, they found that his cabin had been purchased long before he had arrived, and apparently had spent all of his time inside. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Xu was puzzled but also pleased when they released him and had no further inquiries.

This morning, some time afterwards, the Ella Dorina had docked while Xu was in the shower. He was surprised as anyone, since he hadn't seen land out his window when they first work up. But the person on the other side of the antiquated speakers had announced that the trip was complete. Shrugging, Xu dressed, put on his jack-of-all-trades watch, and gathered his meager supplies before heading out. That watch might just be his salvation. Any hope of returning back to his time might just lay in the advanced tech and programmed nanites packed inside. He even had his own personal entropy field, which could always come in handy.

At the customs line, Xu grabbed a small bag that apparently had some of his personal things. Knowing he hadn't packed anything when he had jumped all those centuries, the older Asian time traveler simply was willing to accept what had been given for him in this continuing unusual situation. Grabbing his bag to turn, though, he accidentally shouldered the nervous man behind him.

Ralnis wrote:
Isaiah B. Winslow,
On Board the Ella Dorina
Time Unit 1 HU


Though, even now, third and fourth personal information was nothing compared to the fear he has when he sees the visage that seemed to swallow all that entered. It was only after a person bumped into him did his mind came back to reality.

"Oh, I'm sorry" Isaiah gave out a quick apology as he grabbed his luggage and followed the line of people towards the mysterious door that opens for a person and a person alone. The door was a heavy thing, moved fast like a mechanical viper with a man that snapped open-and-shut. The curious man let his mind wander at the mystery beyond the door. What agents lie, what paper pushers or strange, mysterious rules and customs he broke without even knowing.

These questions built up like a rising wave. The same storm that wracked through the waves as the ship broke through. Still, Winslow was not an ironclad, he was a man. A hollow man that couldn't stomach the dread of the grinding metal of the door. So his mind wondered as he walked in line. Remembered that baron he never knew. Died in the small theater like Lincoln at Ford's Theater.

His body got closet to the point where he needed to go to the door and he walked away. His curiosity of the ship and the murder bit him like a dog on a piece of meat. Another of the passengers took his place as he walked to the only haven of familiarity in this strange land. It didn't take long to head back to the ship, his mind focused to get back to the bunk cabin of first class.


"The fault is all mine." Xu wasn't sure if the man had stopped to hear him or not. He got behind the polite stranger in line for what apparently was the exit customs inspection, approving of the instantaneous dematerializing tech that had been used in the construction of the door. It reminded him of home. The stranger, however, decided on some other course of action before leaving the line. Xu moved up and patiently awaited his turn. Soon enough, it came. The door opened. The time traveler was curious to see more of this strange new world... as he might piece together why he was even here in the first place.

Action - Visit Customs and hopefully get their approval
I'm OP-ing this one - PARAGON INDUSTRIES - A high tech comedy with the kooks, rejects and psychos who work at the once great tech giant that's fallen on bad times. Check out the IC action here!

Also Young Bloods - the long-running superhero RP that I just joined 164 pages in


Louisianan wrote:Talchyon has great comedic writing, that is true.

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Lunas Legion
Post Czar
 
Posts: 30722
Founded: Jan 21, 2013
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Lunas Legion » Mon Sep 12, 2022 12:18 pm

Isabella de Tervain, ??:??
Duwall International Zeeport, Special Customs Office - Duwall


Ah, customs. How dutiful. How impertinent. At the very least they spoke Elbarian and with only the barest hint of a most unusual accent. There was nothing she could do but simply nod in silent acceptance as they took her luggage away, leading her off down a side corridor to a spacious room. To attempt to fight the glacial hand of state bureaucracy was a doomed endavour. Best to suffer through the indignity.

They poured her luggage out onto the table, and began sifting through it like miners panning for gold, and her muscles tensed at the indignity of it all, but she bit her tongue and restrained herself.

"In order of your questions..." She began, each word in Elbarian carefully enunciated.

"I am Isabella de Tervain." She gestured to the table. "If you require proof, I believe my passport is somewhere in the jumble of a pile you have made of my possessions. I am from the Empire of Elbaria, if you wish for a more specific answer, the town of Styol. What it is like..." She smiled slightly. "A difficult question, as it depends on the day. Some days it is sunny and warm and the sky is clear and the streets bustle with people, on others the harsh winds of winter blow dead leaves through empty streets, and the people huddle away in fear of the wrath of the cold."

"I have no previous occupation if you are looking for a trade, as a member of the Elbarian aristocracy I am socially and, to a lesser degree, legally barred from any occupation beyond aristocrat, if one considers that an occupation. Elbarian law, at least, does not, as it is not a trade."

She took a breath. "Finally, no, I know of no men named Saturn, nor anyone named after a celestial body or an ancient god. Do you have any more questions?"
Last edited by William Slim Wed Dec 14 1970 10:35 pm, edited 35 times in total.

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G-Tech Corporation
Khan of Spam
 
Posts: 61674
Founded: Feb 03, 2010
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby G-Tech Corporation » Mon Sep 12, 2022 12:46 pm

Sir Winthrop Eddleton the Younger
Duwall International Zeeport

Alloyed metal, reinforced against the passage of immense constructs and mountains of baggage, creaked beneath the tread of the Scion. His ponderous steps, swift for the apparent mass of their progenitor, echoed volubly as the man out of time descended from the ship, a long cigar visibly ablaze puffing rigidly in the middle of his face.

There was the faintest hint of a drizzle, which incongruously flashed into steam as each droplet landed on the skin of the hulking monolith of a denizen as he glanced about the zeeport. Behind him a porter, a servant that is, followed, struggling under the weight of a single massive case. A thick walking stick, bearing the head of a snarling wolf in embossed steel, tapped on the walkway as the man turned towards the open door to the customs office.

With heavy tread the great waistcoated gentleman passed into the customs office, taking in the long snaking line to one side for foreign visitors, and his eyebrows narrowed marginally. Another line to one side with ambiguous lettering about dignitaries and the like was where his gaze landed, and from inside of his coat the monstrous figure produced a sheaf of documentation, advancing on the guard nearby.

"Winthrop, Eddleton. Sovereign, Mechina-Golar. By right of station, and imminent necessity to my schedule, I request expedited processing for myself and my manservant."

The smile the machine-man aimed at the guard was so small as to barely more than a suggestion, probably for the best as the filed metal teeth of the Orator perturbed most mortals.

Skip the line via diplomatic papers
TG if you have questions about RP. If I don't know the answer, I know someone who does.

Quite the unofficial fellow. P2TM Mentor specializing in faction and nation RPs, as well as RPGs.

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Olthenia
Senator
 
Posts: 4026
Founded: Oct 03, 2009
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Olthenia » Mon Sep 12, 2022 12:48 pm

Annar Inkerman
Duwall International Zeeport


The coughs - hard and throaty - went on and on and on.

For a moment there, Annar was just about doubled over - an involuntary mimic of the way his father sometimes stood - cheeks puffed. Eyes teary. It'll pass. Gawd, it better have. It'll pass. Augh. But he'd been telling himself that for the past week-and-a-half now. Where exactly this persistent cough of his had come from, Annar was far from certain. He'd hardly been out of his cramped compartment more often than he dared - but heck. It was probably just the zee. The bracing stillness of the bat-infested air. The spray of water. The chill and bluster and damp of it all.

Finally - with a long, shuddering sigh - Annar straightened, hauled his a hand through his lanky, brown hair. And glanced down across the walkway.

There, in the grand old building with the wrought iron facade ahead - lay the customs hall. And that, like it or not, was where Annar set his feet to. Step by step, throat raw from coughing and shins stinging from his patrol boots, Annar stomped his way into the line there. The long, long line. Almost as an afterthought, he shifted the leather strap of his typrewriter's case across his shoulder there. Ah, and thne? Eased it off. Better to have it sit at his feet, he reasoned, than lug the blasted thing until his shoulder ached more than his poor, blistered shins.

Fresh off the Ella Dorina, Annar waddles his miserable way towards the Customs office. Law-abiding citizens, after all, tend to do just that.
Last edited by Olthenia on Mon Sep 12, 2022 12:49 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Harkback Union
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 17366
Founded: Sep 01, 2012
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Harkback Union » Mon Sep 12, 2022 12:58 pm

Lunas Legion wrote:Isabella de Tervain, ??:??
Duwall International Zeeport, Special Customs Office - Duwall


Ah, customs. How dutiful. How impertinent. At the very least they spoke Elbarian and with only the barest hint of a most unusual accent. There was nothing she could do but simply nod in silent acceptance as they took her luggage away, leading her off down a side corridor to a spacious room. To attempt to fight the glacial hand of state bureaucracy was a doomed endavour. Best to suffer through the indignity.

They poured her luggage out onto the table, and began sifting through it like miners panning for gold, and her muscles tensed at the indignity of it all, but she bit her tongue and restrained herself.

"In order of your questions..." She began, each word in Elbarian carefully enunciated.

"I am Isabella de Tervain." She gestured to the table. "If you require proof, I believe my passport is somewhere in the jumble of a pile you have made of my possessions. I am from the Empire of Elbaria, if you wish for a more specific answer, the town of Styol. What it is like..." She smiled slightly. "A difficult question, as it depends on the day. Some days it is sunny and warm and the sky is clear and the streets bustle with people, on others the harsh winds of winter blow dead leaves through empty streets, and the people huddle away in fear of the wrath of the cold."

"I have no previous occupation if you are looking for a trade, as a member of the Elbarian aristocracy I am socially and, to a lesser degree, legally barred from any occupation beyond aristocrat, if one considers that an occupation. Elbarian law, at least, does not, as it is not a trade."

She took a breath. "Finally, no, I know of no men named Saturn, nor anyone named after a celestial body or an ancient god. Do you have any more questions?"


Image

I see... Interesting...
The interrigator says, while scribbling down something in his notebook. He then turns pages.
"So... you are aware of ancient gods named Saturn? Are you a believer of such faiths perhaps? Or do you know anyone who is?"

Meanwhile Isabella's bags are searched with great speed, and consequently, little care for fragile items.
35
Luckily, nothing breaks, but they leave a dent or two on the trunk. Finally, they stumble upon the notebook and take a thorough examination of its contents
65
"Herr Kapitän! I zhink we hafe found somezing!" - An official says, now in a different, but familiar tongue.

The customs officers gather around the notebook and try to decipher her Scribbling.
They fail.
The notebook is then placed in a protective seal and is disappeared into a briefcase.

"This notebook of yours? What does it contain?"
"I'm afraid we'll have to confiscate it. We are not required to give a reason."
"We also can't let you keep that rifle. There is nothing to hunt here but cats. We'll keep it safe you until your departure."

Code: Select all
Items lost:
Notebook
Rifle


"We are also not done with you yet. Report to the Sentinel's bureau in Kultgarten within 20 hours, harkback time. You may proceed with medical and psychological evaluation. The door on the left. Have a nice stay in the H.U."
Last edited by Harkback Union on Mon Sep 12, 2022 1:00 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Lunas Legion
Post Czar
 
Posts: 30722
Founded: Jan 21, 2013
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Lunas Legion » Mon Sep 12, 2022 1:10 pm

Isabella de Tervain, ??:??
Duwall International Zeeport, Special Customs Office - Duwall


"Those faiths have long since past into history's dustbin, at least where I am from. They are little more than a mild historical curiousity." Isabella shook her head, wincing as they searched through her bag. There was some fragile stuff in there, after all, but she didn't hear anything break and her trunk could take a dent or two. She could always buy a replacement.

And then they found something. She sighed. She wasn't exactly hiding anything-

Oh. She managed to hide the smile as they gathered around her notebook, attempting to decipher what were little more than idle scribblings while she was bored to distract herself from that particular fact. The notebook was sealed away and vanished into a briefcase. She could always buy another.

"That notebook is just idle scribbing to keep hands busy on long and often boring journeys." Isabella waved dismissively. "It is of no matter or consequence."

The rifle was a bigger deal. She almost opened her mouth to protest, but silenced herself. They would look after it until her departure. "Very well, then." She said, nodding slightly. "See to it that it comes to no damage, it is quite the expensive weapon after all. Made for the greatest of game animals on the imperial reserves back home." She stood, brushing herself down quickly and collecting her things to move onto the medical and psychological evaluation. "I bid you all a good day."

Well, she had a destination in mind once she got out. This... Sentinel's Bureau. Best to attempt to deal with that as soon as possible, and stay the glacial might of the state, than have it hanging over her like Damocles' Sword.
Last edited by William Slim Wed Dec 14 1970 10:35 pm, edited 35 times in total.

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Western Fardelshufflestein
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5050
Founded: Apr 21, 2020
New York Times Democracy

Postby Western Fardelshufflestein » Mon Sep 12, 2022 1:35 pm

Sahara Amrani
Duwall International Zeeport


Get your stuff.

That was the only thought running through Sahara's head as she disembarked the Ella Dorina. She needed to put as much distance between herself and the outside world as possible, and the faster she retrieved her belongings, the faster she'd be gone.

She didn't take time to marvel her surroundings, just wove her way through the throng toward her knapsack. All she had was in that purse; without it, she'd be more desolate than she already was.

Then she hit the line. She wasn't willing to cut through it and draw attention to herself; that, and it was inconsiderate. Her mother had raised her to have better manners than that. Mother--. No, best not to worry about that now. Her heart buzzed inside her chest, and she clutched at the space where her purse should be. Her silver bangles gleamed in the zeeport's artificial light, their sheen a crisp gray as opposed to the harsh white of the Ushadan sun. They were real silver, not a lesser metal hidden behind a varnish. She'd confirmed their value herself.

The line moved steadily, and soon she was scouring the conveyor belt for her possessions.
Last edited by Western Fardelshufflestein on Mon Sep 12, 2022 6:05 pm, edited 2 times in total.
The Constitutional Monarchy of Western Fardelshufflestein
Always Has Been. | WF's User Be Like | NSG is Budget Twitter | Yo, Kenneth Branagh won an Oscar
Tiny, Shakespeare-obsessed island nation northeast of NZ settled by HRE emigrants who thought they'd landed in the West Indies. F7 Stuff Mostly Not Canon; RP is in real time; Ignore Stats; Still Not Kenneth Branagh. | A L A S T A I R C E P T I O N
The Western Fardelshufflestein Sentinel | 27 November 2022 bUt wHy iS tHE rUm gOnE!?

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Ralnis
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 28126
Founded: Aug 06, 2012
Father Knows Best State

Postby Ralnis » Mon Sep 12, 2022 2:19 pm

Isaiah B Winslow,
Bar of the Ela Dorina,
Time 2 Hu


Curiosity whimpered at the failing of what it was trying to do. Craving, while lazing around on the opposite end of Winslow's sight, was laughing at his brother. To Isaiah, his mind was temporarily stunned as the stewardess came to him and found him out.

A thousand of ideas went through his head before he just thought of something quickly.

Ahh! I'm sorry ma'am! The young man put the empty glass down on the bar.
I didn't mean to stay here any longer than I had to. A mixture of sea travel and the barons murder had me tense. So I wanted to try and get a drink to calm my nerves before going to customs.

He tried to not convince her with his lackadaisical charm. His nerves were shot and needed something to keep Craving from attacking him on his first day in a strange land. The baron's murder was just something he had to investigate, Curiosity would let it go without something to satisfying the beast.

Yet what hurt even more was now he was on a time limit that put unwanted, but unwarranted pressure on him. Ten hours was he could get for now to play his little game of investigator and see if he could help the police find the killer. It was then that Curiosity had spotted something that Isaiah couldn't overlook. It was part of the day that every stewardess on a train or a sea vessel would have names written with their cabin number on the writing board. It was against the privacy of ship, any trust he built with the stewardess, and the police were obviously looking into the murder.

Still, Curiosity barked and pointed at the board with his snout. A part of his mind was already trying to get him to the action that he knew was his only way to get any information. So he took his risk.

(OOC Note: Harkback did some rolls for me to do this. This isn't godmoding.)

Curiosity d12:
6 (Success)

Glancing at the board that the stewardess holds, she had a name crossed in red ink on the paper. The name of the baron was Baron Wolfram Riedesel von Fraise. von Fraise had a room in the upper deck by the number of 002. Curiosity barked happily with the information gained. Even though that the first attempt was a complete bust, this was a turn of fortune. Just hope that-

Style d6
2 (Success)

- She didn't even notice Isaiah's duplicity. It was something that both Curiosity and Craving looked at the young man with surprise. He was even looking at the woman, but she hasn't changed her expression or hasn't even caught him spying. This was surely a balance of luck or some kind of universal grace. It did matter in hindsight what happened, but he would take it, nevertheless. Getting up from the stool, he gave a nod to the stewardess.

I'm going to try and get some rest. Then I'll go to the customs. Thank you for letting me stay ma'am.

Leaving the bar, Isaiah followed Curiosity with Craving lagging behind. Having the black hound lag behind him made him feel anxious, but the liquid courage burned through his veins. It was the fuel to keep him from getting attacked by the hound. However, the shield wasn't large enough and he knew that. He hoped to get some more in his system once he made it past customs. But with Curiosity making him find out about the murder of the Baron von Fraise, he may see the sights of the oppressive city behind iron bars.

Though nothing is better than having a happy dog, you know? They're Man's Best Friend for a reason.

Action: Go to Baron von Fraise's cabin room and try to search for any information relating to his murder. You know, before the police does. Because why not?
This account must be deleted. The person behind it is a racist, annoying waste of life that must be shunned back to whatever rock he crawled out from.

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Lazarian
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1630
Founded: Jul 14, 2013
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Lazarian » Mon Sep 12, 2022 2:23 pm

Vasily Obraztsov
Duwall International Zeeport


As he stepped off the ship, Vas looked around the place, rubbing his sinewy hands together for a bit of warmth. So this was it. Hark-bak. The unknown country.

In some ways, it reminded him of home. It was cold - probably near freezing. Dozens of cranes hung over the harbor, loading cargo here and there. The heavy industrial equipment was no stranger to him, nor were the blocklike red warehouses. And it was dim, almost reminiscent of twilight in the Vasovian winter - though the light pollution that spewed from the city kept things lit well enough.

Ah, yes. The part that wasn't familiar. He'd spotted the City on the way in, and had almost struggled to take it in altogether. A thousand spires and buildings, stacked atop one another at haphazard and wild manners. A thousand chimneys, a thousand wires, a thousand towers. Words almost failed to describe this place. It was beyond anything he had ever seen - or even imagined.

He'd never quite heard of the place at all before the voyage. But it had been one of the only destinations with departures available on the night he had reached the port - and thus, he'd purchased the ticket. Information of the outside world could be quite scarce in the Motherland, and so he had assumed that it was one of the small western countries on the south coast of the Azore. He'd figured it would be better than what he had left behind, and that was good enough.

A pretty low bar, all things considered.

He'd spent most of the journey in the third-class passenger bays, which had been more luxurious than he had expected. Decent food. A cotton mattress. A room to himself! Positively first-rate, by Vasovian standards. He had been getting used to the place - but sadly, they'd arrived.

Around him, a hundred strange men and women hustled and bustled, attempting to grab their luggage. Vas hadn't stored any of his - didn't trust the ship workers. As they said in the motherland - out of sight, out of possession. His old duffel bag had been stashed underneath the bed the whole journey, and it hung over his shoulder limply as he disembarked the ship. The liras, wrapped carefully in a food wrapper as to avoid...stains...shuffled uncomfortably in his underwear. He'd heard a rumor on board that they wouldn't allow foreign currency to enter the country.

That meant it was contraband. And that meant it was worth something. It would be much better to enter the country with more than less.

Discreetly, he pushed the tightly-bound bar of liras further his ass. He stood up more stiffly, scrunching his face up in response to the discomfort. This was humiliating, painful, and potentially dangerous - but it could certainly be worth it.

Squinting, he looked forward at the line to Customs. Reminded him of the bread lines. Long, trailing, filled with weary and impatient faces alike.

Well, there was nothing to do but sit and wait. He knew better than to try to cut. Men had been killed for such transgressions at home. Now, Hark-Bak didn't seem in such a sorry state as the People's Republik, but...better not to chance fate.

Fresh off the Ella Dorina, Vas heads to the Customs office and attempts to make it though, liras and all.
Last edited by Lazarian on Mon Sep 12, 2022 2:31 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Harkback Union
Post Marshal
 
Posts: 17366
Founded: Sep 01, 2012
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Harkback Union » Mon Sep 12, 2022 3:28 pm

G-Tech Corporation wrote:Sir Winthrop Eddleton the Younger
Duwall International Zeeport

Alloyed metal, reinforced against the passage of immense constructs and mountains of baggage, creaked beneath the tread of the Scion. His ponderous steps, swift for the apparent mass of their progenitor, echoed volubly as the man out of time descended from the ship, a long cigar visibly ablaze puffing rigidly in the middle of his face.

There was the faintest hint of a drizzle, which incongruously flashed into steam as each droplet landed on the skin of the hulking monolith of a denizen as he glanced about the zeeport. Behind him a porter, a servant that is, followed, struggling under the weight of a single massive case. A thick walking stick, bearing the head of a snarling wolf in embossed steel, tapped on the walkway as the man turned towards the open door to the customs office.

With heavy tread the great waistcoated gentleman passed into the customs office, taking in the long snaking line to one side for foreign visitors, and his eyebrows narrowed marginally. Another line to one side with ambiguous lettering about dignitaries and the like was where his gaze landed, and from inside of his coat the monstrous figure produced a sheaf of documentation, advancing on the guard nearby.

"Winthrop, Eddleton. Sovereign, Mechina-Golar. By right of station, and imminent necessity to my schedule, I request expedited processing for myself and my manservant."

The smile the machine-man aimed at the guard was so small as to barely more than a suggestion, probably for the best as the filed metal teeth of the Orator perturbed most mortals.

Skip the line via diplomatic papers


4
Sir Eddleton attracted quite the attention as he strolled in from the baggage collection room. Some were inclined to get out of his way before he spoke, but it wouldn't come to that. Out of nowhere, a man in the attire of an expensive servant appeared. A thin, tall man with a very serious face. He only appeared to be burdened by a bit of paperwork.

Image

"Mister Eddleton?
"Ex-Grand Admiral of Her Solar Majesty’s Etheric Fleet? Scion of the Court Imperial? Duke of Eddleton, Arch-Fabricant of the Dessicated Machine Empire of Mechina-Golar? Voidspeaker? Forgebound of the Mountain’s Heart? Doombearer? Maker-Progenitor of the Agaladrim? Von Neumann’s Heir? Wolf-Lord of the Frozen Wastes? Orator of the Apocalypse? Scourge of Numismita and Thrawn B7? Man of a World Without Men? Defiler of Ancients and Innocents? Yggdrasil’s Champion? The One Who Wakes? Master Reanimationist? The Broken-But-Whole? Bearer of Pretentious Titles? Knight of His Void Majesty’s Darkest Order?"
...
"Apologies for the formalities, I had to make sure it was you. My Employer, Dr. Thornberg is a great admirer of your work. Perhaps, you haven't heard of him yet, but he's certainly heard of you... and your visit. I was sent by him to make sure everything goes smoothly for you."


The thin man retrieves a yellow, metallic card with a series of circular holes and enigmatic circuitry cut through its narrow body. - "You have a companion? All this luggage is yours? Very well, this way sir." - He returns to the baggage collection room, enters a kind of phone booth, previously hidden in plane sight, and proceeds to place the mysterious card inside. He proceeds by dialing numbers in quick succession, the motion becoming increasingly fast and mechanical. He does not speak into the device.

A minute passes like this, before several pieces of salon furniture arrives by conveyor belt and come to a halt.

"This may be highly unusual, and quite illegal, but if I knew any better way of preventing customs confiscating your technological marvels and labor assigning you menial duties, well, we would be doing that instead. Just try not to stretch around, and you should be safe."

He sinks into a crimson chaiselong and lights an expensive cigarette. In front of him, on the other side antique coffee table, a spacious sofa with golden trimmings wait patiently.
Last edited by Harkback Union on Mon Sep 12, 2022 3:30 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Harkback Union
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Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Harkback Union » Mon Sep 12, 2022 4:07 pm

Talchyon wrote:Duwall International Zeeport
Customs
Dr. Feng Xu


Jet lag was not as bad as he thought it would be. Of course, changing time zones on the curious Ella Dorina ship was nothing compared to teleporting back in time at least a millenium and several centuries to boot. Now that was jet lag!

The older Asian man had actually gotten used to this living in the past bit. Sure, the first days were rough when he was certain that he had been hallucinating, dreaming, or in some psychotic mind test. But being observant, and highly logical, Dr. Feng Xu had ruled out the impossibilities and that had only left him with what option remained, which was that he was a time traveler now. Curious. He had expected some kind of reverse F3 wave function at the least, but there had been nothing. One moment, he had been in his lab in Nemo, working on a nanite program. The next moment, he was sitting in a bunk on a ship on a sea. He wasn't used to seeing the surface. Few Talchyonites went up. But it was clear that wherever he was was no longer in Talchyon with its radioactive storms. The weather that day was pleasant. Gray clouds (!) showered a gentle rain in a cool morning. He had never seen a genuine cloud before, though he had seen lab-made reproductions for experiments.

Apparently, two days before he had arrived, a man had been murdered on the ship. At first he was detained since the authorities suspected Xu of being a stowaway. But after some paper shuffling, they found that his cabin had been purchased long before he had arrived, and apparently had spent all of his time inside. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Xu was puzzled but also pleased when they released him and had no further inquiries.

This morning, some time afterwards, the Ella Dorina had docked while Xu was in the shower. He was surprised as anyone, since he hadn't seen land out his window when they first work up. But the person on the other side of the antiquated speakers had announced that the trip was complete. Shrugging, Xu dressed, put on his jack-of-all-trades watch, and gathered his meager supplies before heading out. That watch might just be his salvation. Any hope of returning back to his time might just lay in the advanced tech and programmed nanites packed inside. He even had his own personal entropy field, which could always come in handy.

At the customs line, Xu grabbed a small bag that apparently had some of his personal things. Knowing he hadn't packed anything when he had jumped all those centuries, the older Asian time traveler simply was willing to accept what had been given for him in this continuing unusual situation. Grabbing his bag to turn, though, he accidentally shouldered the nervous man behind him.

Ralnis wrote:
Isaiah B. Winslow,
On Board the Ella Dorina
Time Unit 1 HU


Though, even now, third and fourth personal information was nothing compared to the fear he has when he sees the visage that seemed to swallow all that entered. It was only after a person bumped into him did his mind came back to reality.

"Oh, I'm sorry" Isaiah gave out a quick apology as he grabbed his luggage and followed the line of people towards the mysterious door that opens for a person and a person alone. The door was a heavy thing, moved fast like a mechanical viper with a man that snapped open-and-shut. The curious man let his mind wander at the mystery beyond the door. What agents lie, what paper pushers or strange, mysterious rules and customs he broke without even knowing.

These questions built up like a rising wave. The same storm that wracked through the waves as the ship broke through. Still, Winslow was not an ironclad, he was a man. A hollow man that couldn't stomach the dread of the grinding metal of the door. So his mind wondered as he walked in line. Remembered that baron he never knew. Died in the small theater like Lincoln at Ford's Theater.

His body got closet to the point where he needed to go to the door and he walked away. His curiosity of the ship and the murder bit him like a dog on a piece of meat. Another of the passengers took his place as he walked to the only haven of familiarity in this strange land. It didn't take long to head back to the ship, his mind focused to get back to the bunk cabin of first class.


"The fault is all mine." Xu wasn't sure if the man had stopped to hear him or not. He got behind the polite stranger in line for what apparently was the exit customs inspection, approving of the instantaneous dematerializing tech that had been used in the construction of the door. It reminded him of home. The stranger, however, decided on some other course of action before leaving the line. Xu moved up and patiently awaited his turn. Soon enough, it came. The door opened. The time traveler was curious to see more of this strange new world... as he might piece together why he was even here in the first place.

Action - Visit Customs and hopefully get their approval


The queue is long, but not impossibly so. As he's waiting, there is an incoming message on the comms system:

Code: Select all
Good morning!

Hope everythings all right on your end Dr. Xu! It all checks out here. Green lights everywhere.

Our information about this place and time is extremely limited, but do let me know if there is anything I could do to help.

I've been told that Central Command has an important message for you. Its highly classified and will not allow its broadcast, not even through this secure, encrypted line, so I'm not sure how they're gonna get it to you.

Si Li-Young
Temporal Operations Assistant


Image

"Papers."
Having read the message, Dr. Xu suddenly finds the line in front of him disappeared. How curious.

14
The unusually detailed passport is a dazzling sight to the customs officer. He raises the document and compares the two faces. He nods and turns pages.
"Uhm... It says here... You are..."
"Never mind, everything's in order." - He hands the documents back to Xu.

68
Xu's papers are checked thoroughly, and his calculator is tested for accuracy and speed, but all the while its the watch that attracts most of his curiosity.
"May I see your chronometer sir?"

Design - d12
10: Failure

An accidental push triggers the display mechanism on the watch, several holographic images appear.
"What is this contraption?" - He inquires.
Last edited by Harkback Union on Mon Sep 12, 2022 4:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Harkback Union
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Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Harkback Union » Mon Sep 12, 2022 5:18 pm

Olthenia wrote:Annar Inkerman
Duwall International Zeeport


The coughs - hard and throaty - went on and on and on.

For a moment there, Annar was just about doubled over - an involuntary mimic of the way his father sometimes stood - cheeks puffed. Eyes teary. It'll pass. Gawd, it better have. It'll pass. Augh. But he'd been telling himself that for the past week-and-a-half now. Where exactly this persistent cough of his had come from, Annar was far from certain. He'd hardly been out of his cramped compartment more often than he dared - but heck. It was probably just the zee. The bracing stillness of the bat-infested air. The spray of water. The chill and bluster and damp of it all.

Finally - with a long, shuddering sigh - Annar straightened, hauled his a hand through his lanky, brown hair. And glanced down across the walkway.

There, in the grand old building with the wrought iron facade ahead - lay the customs hall. And that, like it or not, was where Annar set his feet to. Step by step, throat raw from coughing and shins stinging from his patrol boots, Annar stomped his way into the line there. The long, long line. Almost as an afterthought, he shifted the leather strap of his typrewriter's case across his shoulder there. Ah, and thne? Eased it off. Better to have it sit at his feet, he reasoned, than lug the blasted thing until his shoulder ached more than his poor, blistered shins.

Fresh off the Ella Dorina, Annar waddles his miserable way towards the Customs office. Law-abiding citizens, after all, tend to do just that.


Annar's customs inspection goes like clockwork. With little to nothing to collect from the conveyor belts, he is among the first to be inspected. The paperwork was in order and the typewriter was found to contain no explosives or secret ciphers.
77
The coughs and sneezes however, left the customs officers worried. One of them abandoned his post to assist Annar quickly to the health inspection, which turned out to be a quarantine room. Inside was a white table with a glass of stale water, a metal chair, a utilitarian single bed and a small cage inhabited by a bored monkey. There were 2 doors, neither of which could be opened from the inside, and a pair of neon tubes, ceaslessly buzzing and flickering due to poor maintenance.

It took awhile, but an unfriendly nurse eventually arrived, pushing a cart full of medical instruments.

Image

"Apologies Mister Ink-er. We'll have to do some tests to make sure you are not carrying anything contagious before you can be let out of here."
"This shouldn't hurt too much." - The nurse said without even attempting a smile, a large steel syringe in hand.
Daring: d6
2 - success
It did hurt, but Annar didn't have to show it. She seemed surprised.

"Now, it will only take a working day or two to process. You'll be looked after in the meantime." - She promised, before leaving in a hurry.

A few minutes passed, and a few more minutes, and then... the monkey came to life. He held something metallic in hand. A tiny scalpel from the nurse's trolley. It was just the right size for the cage's locking mechanism.
Monkey Business - d12
8 Success
Just barely, but after a minute of desperate struggle, the monkey broke free. He jumped around the table in joy, knocking over the glass of water in the process. He then hopped towards the ventilation shaft below the bed, untightened the screws, pulled off the cover and made a daring escape!

The experience was so surreal, and happened so fast, it felt like a fever dream afterwards. That was until the door on the opposite end of the room creaked open, revealing the scaple-welding monkey now also dressed in a white nurse hat, gesturing Annar to follow him out.

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Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Harkback Union » Mon Sep 12, 2022 5:47 pm

Lunas Legion wrote:Isabella de Tervain, ??:??
Duwall International Zeeport, Special Customs Office - Duwall


"Those faiths have long since past into history's dustbin, at least where I am from. They are little more than a mild historical curiousity." Isabella shook her head, wincing as they searched through her bag. There was some fragile stuff in there, after all, but she didn't hear anything break and her trunk could take a dent or two. She could always buy a replacement.

And then they found something. She sighed. She wasn't exactly hiding anything-

Oh. She managed to hide the smile as they gathered around her notebook, attempting to decipher what were little more than idle scribblings while she was bored to distract herself from that particular fact. The notebook was sealed away and vanished into a briefcase. She could always buy another.

"That notebook is just idle scribbing to keep hands busy on long and often boring journeys." Isabella waved dismissively. "It is of no matter or consequence."

The rifle was a bigger deal. She almost opened her mouth to protest, but silenced herself. They would look after it until her departure. "Very well, then." She said, nodding slightly. "See to it that it comes to no damage, it is quite the expensive weapon after all. Made for the greatest of game animals on the imperial reserves back home." She stood, brushing herself down quickly and collecting her things to move onto the medical and psychological evaluation. "I bid you all a good day."

Well, she had a destination in mind once she got out. This... Sentinel's Bureau. Best to attempt to deal with that as soon as possible, and stay the glacial might of the state, than have it hanging over her like Damocles' Sword.


MEDICAL INSPECTION
36
There was a steady flow of passengers Isabella next got caught up in. They were poring in from all directions and led her towards a medical checkpoint that was currently not staffed and completely overlooked. A "please wait" sign and a small red strip of velvet was all that stood against the tide of passengers eager to save themselves the trouble of medical checkups. The result was expectable.

Isabella was thus carried past this obstacle by the flow of people to the final station of this nightmare. The office of labor assignment. Here, an assortment of spinning wheels, rolling marbles and tables of numbers help determine what job is best suited for each individual.
Curiosity - d8
5
Many found out far too late, that the results of the medical inspection could be used to avoid certain results. Isabella was not among them. She could try to return to Medical to get herself evaluated, or approach an officer and get her duties now... or even try to dodge or cheat the labor draft somehow. But for that, she'll have to think of an idea first.

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Lunas Legion
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Posts: 30722
Founded: Jan 21, 2013
Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Lunas Legion » Mon Sep 12, 2022 6:08 pm

Isabella de Tervain, ??:??
Duwall International Zeeport - Duwall


Crowds. Truly, the bane of order and civilization across the whole world, and even here, that seemed to be no exception. Like an unstoppable tide, they carried her through the hallways and corridors and past an abandoned medical checkpoint, removing an obstacle that was, for her, not an obstacle in the slightest, being perfectly healthy.

The crowd, like a wave, broke up and scattered as they approached the final hurdle, this... 'Office of Labour Assignment'. How... Plebian, of them, to assign them to labour. To even consider assigning her to a labour. She was a titled noble of Elbaria, not some merchant or worker to be sent to do labour at a whim.

She could throw herself on it and pray it was merciful, but... No, that would not do. Not in the slightest. It was too much of a risk. She glanced back towards the abandoned medical checkpoint. Hm. Wheels began to turn in her mind, a plan forming itself, a backup plan behind that.

She turned and started to do her best to make her way back to the abandoned medical checkpoint, to see if there were any papers she might... Fill out in her own name, given the lack of inspectors present to watch over it and any papers that might be present. If there were not, or the abandoned checkpoint was less so, then the next best plan she had was to get inspected and then to say she had been made an exception to the labour draft and had been specially assigned by customs to report to the Sentinel's Bureau as soon as possible. Did she know what that was, no. Did it sound better than trying her luck with the lottery? Yes.
Last edited by William Slim Wed Dec 14 1970 10:35 pm, edited 35 times in total.

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Harkback Union
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Founded: Sep 01, 2012
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Harkback Union » Mon Sep 12, 2022 6:34 pm

Western Fardelshufflestein wrote:
Sahara Amrani
Duwall International Zeeport


Get your stuff.

That was the only thought running through Sahara's head as she disembarked the Ella Dorina. She needed to put as much distance between herself and the outside world as possible, and the faster she retrieved her belongings, the faster she'd be gone.

She didn't take time to marvel her surroundings, just wove her way through the throng toward her knapsack. All she had was in that purse; without it, she'd be more desolate than she already was.

Then she hit the line. She wasn't willing to cut through it and draw attention to herself; that, and it was inconsiderate. Her mother had raised her to have better manners than that. Mother--. No, best not to worry about that now. Her heart buzzed inside her chest, and she clutched at the space where her purse should be. Her silver bangles gleamed in the zeeport's artificial light, their sheen a crisp gray as opposed to the harsh white of the Ushadan sun. They were real silver, not a lesser metal hidden behind a varnish. She'd confirmed their value herself.

The line moved steadily, and soon she was scouring the conveyor belt for her possessions.


97

Bags, sacks, trunks and cases. But where is Sahara's share of imports? There is no sign of it on the belts.
Could someone have stolen it?
Curiosity d10
10

The conveyor belts start to empty, and there is still no sign of her things. It shouldn't be much, most of the valuable items are already on her person, but still... Finally, some new arriving on the belts. Rows of Furniture materials out of an entry port. Could her luggage be among them?

Code: Select all
Attempt to find Statuette among the furniture?
Proceed without or try something else?
Last edited by Harkback Union on Mon Sep 12, 2022 6:35 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Harkback Union
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Founded: Sep 01, 2012
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Harkback Union » Mon Sep 12, 2022 7:29 pm

Lunas Legion wrote:Isabella de Tervain, ??:??
Duwall International Zeeport - Duwall


Crowds. Truly, the bane of order and civilization across the whole world, and even here, that seemed to be no exception. Like an unstoppable tide, they carried her through the hallways and corridors and past an abandoned medical checkpoint, removing an obstacle that was, for her, not an obstacle in the slightest, being perfectly healthy.

The crowd, like a wave, broke up and scattered as they approached the final hurdle, this... 'Office of Labour Assignment'. How... Plebian, of them, to assign them to labour. To even consider assigning her to a labour. She was a titled noble of Elbaria, not some merchant or worker to be sent to do labour at a whim.

She could throw herself on it and pray it was merciful, but... No, that would not do. Not in the slightest. It was too much of a risk. She glanced back towards the abandoned medical checkpoint. Hm. Wheels began to turn in her mind, a plan forming itself, a backup plan behind that.

She turned and started to do her best to make her way back to the abandoned medical checkpoint, to see if there were any papers she might... Fill out in her own name, given the lack of inspectors present to watch over it and any papers that might be present. If there were not, or the abandoned checkpoint was less so, then the next best plan she had was to get inspected and then to say she had been made an exception to the labour draft and had been specially assigned by customs to report to the Sentinel's Bureau as soon as possible. Did she know what that was, no. Did it sound better than trying her luck with the lottery? Yes.


Curiosity d8
6 (Success)


An incredibly quick search around the checkpoint in the cover of crowdness reveals a secret top drawer stocked with pre-signed and stamped documents. All that needed doing was filling checking the right boxes, or to be more precise, punching the right circles. A mechanical device for doing just that was where one would find the pen. Isabella also found a helpful diagram showing what sorts of work she could be exempted from given her list of conditions.

Imagination d12
7 (Failure)

Surely, they couldn't find work for you if every box is checked, right?
Right?

List of available disabilities:

Code: Select all
Weak Physique, crippling injury or Asthma
[Strike]Industry [/Strike]

Mental Instability
[Strike]Security[/Strike]

Color Blindness
[Strike]Driving[/Strike]

Old Age
[Strike]Eldercare[/Strike]

Chronic Cough
[Strike]Broadcasting[/Strike]

Quick Temper
[Strike]Tourism[/Strike]

Heart Problems
[Strike]Education[/Strike]

Pyromania
[Strike]Firefighting[/Strike]

Tattoos
[Strike]Confectionery[/Strike]

Heretic beliefs
[Strike]Science[/Strike]

Nut Allergy
[Strike]Doctoring[/Strike]

Post Disorder Trauma
[Strike]Postal[/Strike]

Claustrophobia
[Strike]Navy[/Strike]

Twitching
[Strike]Catering[/Strike]

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Talchyon
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Founded: May 05, 2016
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Talchyon » Mon Sep 12, 2022 8:13 pm

Duwall International Zeeport
Customs
Dr. Feng Xu


The line was moving. That at least was enough for Dr. Xu to appreciate the setup of the place. Primitive technology, some of it. But these people couldn't help themselves. They were stuck in their time. It was the natural way of things. As he stood noticing the surroundings, his comm systems on his watch alerted him by silent pulse to a new message. He raised his eyebrows as his face went into a smirk. This was going to be good, because who knew he would have been here in this time?

This is what it said:


Harkback Union wrote:
The queue is long, but not impossibly so. As he's waiting, there is an incoming message on the comms system:

Code: Select all
Good morning!

Hope everythings all right on your end Dr. Xu! It all checks out here. Green lights everywhere.

Our information about this place and time is extremely limited, but do let me know if there is anything I could do to help.

I've been told that Central Command has an important message for you. Its highly classified and will not allow its broadcast, not even through this secure, encrypted line, so I'm not sure how they're gonna get it to you.

Si Li-Young
Temporal Operations Assistant


Dr. Xu saw the name and tried to recall if he had met this individual. He didn't know too many Li-Young's, but it was possible he had bumped into this person. Temporal Operations though - that explained things. Those wiseacres in Temp Ops were always playing pranks on people. No doubt someone thought sending Dr. Xu a millenium and change into the past would be the greatest joke ever. He snorted quietly and shook his head. Being back this far in the past just gave him 1700 years or so to think of a fitting gag to pull when he got back.

But then it was his turn to go through the instantaneous dematerialization doors.

Harkback Union wrote:
(Image)

"Papers."
Having read the message, Dr. Xu suddenly finds the line in front of him disappeared. How curious.

14
The unusually detailed passport is a dazzling sight to the customs officer. He raises the document and compares the two faces. He nods and turns pages.
"Uhm... It says here... You are..."
"Never mind, everything's in order." - He hands the documents back to Xu.

68
Xu's papers are checked thoroughly, and his calculator is tested for accuracy and speed, but all the while its the watch that attracts most of his curiosity.
"May I see your chronometer sir?"

Design - d12
10: Failure

An accidental push triggers the display mechanism on the watch, several holographic images appear.
"What is this contraption?" - He inquires.


"Customs are the same everywhere," the old scientist thought. "They're always poking, prodding, asking things and messing with devices they shouldn't." In this case, it was his jack-of-all-trades tech watch that housed his entropy field, nanites, and other necessities. Xu noticed the holograms emitting from it, thankful that the headings showing were standard: settings, stopwatch, heart rate, cholesterol level. All the fun stuff had secret manual codes to enter before showing anything, and there was no way any customs officer would ever push those codes by random chance. Xu almost smiled but thankfully did not.

Keeping his voice level, he responded, "Ah. Yes. My watch. It also serves as a medical device that keeps track of my health. The hologram images are to help me see more clearly." And he pointed to his glasses as if to suggest he needed the extra magnification. "I must say though, my doctor says I must wear that or it might compromise my health. It's tuned into my system and won't work for anyone else..." he said, which was the truth. In a sense. It was DNA encoded to match his system and electronically paired with the microchips that were imbedded in his system. And there was a health tracker on it. But, there was more as well. More that he didn't want getting taken. Such as his potential ticket out of here.

Action: hold out open hand, so that the customs officer might give his watch back
Last edited by Talchyon on Mon Sep 12, 2022 10:06 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I'm OP-ing this one - PARAGON INDUSTRIES - A high tech comedy with the kooks, rejects and psychos who work at the once great tech giant that's fallen on bad times. Check out the IC action here!

Also Young Bloods - the long-running superhero RP that I just joined 164 pages in


Louisianan wrote:Talchyon has great comedic writing, that is true.

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Western Fardelshufflestein
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Posts: 5050
Founded: Apr 21, 2020
New York Times Democracy

Postby Western Fardelshufflestein » Mon Sep 12, 2022 8:15 pm

Harkback Union wrote:
Western Fardelshufflestein wrote:
Sahara Amrani
Duwall International Zeeport


Get your stuff.

That was the only thought running through Sahara's head as she disembarked the Ella Dorina. She needed to put as much distance between herself and the outside world as possible, and the faster she retrieved her belongings, the faster she'd be gone.

She didn't take time to marvel her surroundings, just wove her way through the throng toward her knapsack. All she had was in that purse; without it, she'd be more desolate than she already was.

Then she hit the line. She wasn't willing to cut through it and draw attention to herself; that, and it was inconsiderate. Her mother had raised her to have better manners than that. Mother--. No, best not to worry about that now. Her heart buzzed inside her chest, and she clutched at the space where her purse should be. Her silver bangles gleamed in the zeeport's artificial light, their sheen a crisp gray as opposed to the harsh white of the Ushadan sun. They were real silver, not a lesser metal hidden behind a varnish. She'd confirmed their value herself.

The line moved steadily, and soon she was scouring the conveyor belt for her possessions.


97

Bags, sacks, trunks and cases. But where is Sahara's share of imports? There is no sign of it on the belts.
Could someone have stolen it?
Curiosity d10
10

The conveyor belts start to empty, and there is still no sign of her things. It shouldn't be much, most of the valuable items are already on her person, but still... Finally, some new arriving on the belts. Rows of Furniture materials out of an entry port. Could her luggage be among them?

Code: Select all
Attempt to find Statuette among the furniture?
Proceed without or try something else?


Sahara Amrani
Duwall International Zeeport


Code: Select all
Action:  attempt to find Statuette among the furniture


No. It has to be here. It must be here! She couldn't lose the statuette. It was the only proof she had; it could incriminate her, but that was a risk she had to take. She stepped closer toward the furniture gliding across the belt, determined to comb through if it was the last thing she did.

She resisted the temptation to climb onto the belt, though only after tensing her shoulders and squeezing her hands so tightly her fingers ached. She wasn't that reckless, that desperate. It was just a worthless statuette; she might never need it. Her father would never find her here, and she'd never have to show it to the authorities and pray they wouldn't damn her.

Sahara tried not to think about the food that statue might have procured, or the coat she could have traded it for. She was effectively homeless now. A runaway in a strange land she knew nothing of with no currency to trade or items of value beyond her bangles. Those would go for 50 dinar at home, but this wasn't home. This was...Sahara didn't know what it was. She had boarded the flightship that took her to the port because it was a to a destination she'd never heard of. From the little she'd garnered from asking around, she knew it was an otherworldly city where night and day were reduced to memory. She'd been warned that once you were in, it was very difficult to get out. For her, that meant it was the perfect place to stay hidden.

Keep looking. It must be here.
The Constitutional Monarchy of Western Fardelshufflestein
Always Has Been. | WF's User Be Like | NSG is Budget Twitter | Yo, Kenneth Branagh won an Oscar
Tiny, Shakespeare-obsessed island nation northeast of NZ settled by HRE emigrants who thought they'd landed in the West Indies. F7 Stuff Mostly Not Canon; RP is in real time; Ignore Stats; Still Not Kenneth Branagh. | A L A S T A I R C E P T I O N
The Western Fardelshufflestein Sentinel | 27 November 2022 bUt wHy iS tHE rUm gOnE!?

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Harkback Union
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Founded: Sep 01, 2012
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Harkback Union » Mon Sep 12, 2022 8:39 pm

Ralnis wrote:
Isaiah B Winslow,
Bar of the Ela Dorina,
Time 2 Hu


Curiosity whimpered at the failing of what it was trying to do. Craving, while lazing around on the opposite end of Winslow's sight, was laughing at his brother. To Isaiah, his mind was temporarily stunned as the stewardess came to him and found him out.

A thousand of ideas went through his head before he just thought of something quickly.

Ahh! I'm sorry ma'am! The young man put the empty glass down on the bar.
I didn't mean to stay here any longer than I had to. A mixture of sea travel and the barons murder had me tense. So I wanted to try and get a drink to calm my nerves before going to customs.

He tried to not convince her with his lackadaisical charm. His nerves were shot and needed something to keep Craving from attacking him on his first day in a strange land. The baron's murder was just something he had to investigate, Curiosity would let it go without something to satisfying the beast.

Yet what hurt even more was now he was on a time limit that put unwanted, but unwarranted pressure on him. Ten hours was he could get for now to play his little game of investigator and see if he could help the police find the killer. It was then that Curiosity had spotted something that Isaiah couldn't overlook. It was part of the day that every stewardess on a train or a sea vessel would have names written with their cabin number on the writing board. It was against the privacy of ship, any trust he built with the stewardess, and the police were obviously looking into the murder.

Still, Curiosity barked and pointed at the board with his snout. A part of his mind was already trying to get him to the action that he knew was his only way to get any information. So he took his risk.

(OOC Note: Harkback did some rolls for me to do this. This isn't godmoding.)

Curiosity d12:
6 (Success)

Glancing at the board that the stewardess holds, she had a name crossed in red ink on the paper. The name of the baron was Baron Wolfram Riedesel von Fraise. von Fraise had a room in the upper deck by the number of 002. Curiosity barked happily with the information gained. Even though that the first attempt was a complete bust, this was a turn of fortune. Just hope that-

Style d6
2 (Success)

- She didn't even notice Isaiah's duplicity. It was something that both Curiosity and Craving looked at the young man with surprise. He was even looking at the woman, but she hasn't changed her expression or hasn't even caught him spying. This was surely a balance of luck or some kind of universal grace. It did matter in hindsight what happened, but he would take it, nevertheless. Getting up from the stool, he gave a nod to the stewardess.

I'm going to try and get some rest. Then I'll go to the customs. Thank you for letting me stay ma'am.

Leaving the bar, Isaiah followed Curiosity with Craving lagging behind. Having the black hound lag behind him made him feel anxious, but the liquid courage burned through his veins. It was the fuel to keep him from getting attacked by the hound. However, the shield wasn't large enough and he knew that. He hoped to get some more in his system once he made it past customs. But with Curiosity making him find out about the murder of the Baron von Fraise, he may see the sights of the oppressive city behind iron bars.

Though nothing is better than having a happy dog, you know? They're Man's Best Friend for a reason.

Action: Go to Baron von Fraise's cabin room and try to search for any information relating to his murder. You know, before the police does. Because why not?


On the orders of the Captain, a thick layer of orange tape was used to seal the room off from curious passengers shortly after the murder. There was even a guard here most of the time making sure no wanna-be ace detective steals or damages any of the crucial evidence within. The probable suspects were already detained. Now, all that had to be done was to wait till the ship arrives in port and the real police shows up.

The tape must have already been tampered with, because its far too easy to pull it off. The door's lock gives in after some mild shaking.

Curiosity d6
6 (Max roll is always failure, but is below attribute (9), so a reroll is mate with a d8 instead).

The room inside seems to be perfectly in order. The bed is well made, and the curtains are neatly tied. But whats that? Some glassware under the bed. A bottle of some dark liquid, almost empty. The label shows no chemical composition, only a crude drawing of a skull. A drink for pirates, perhaps? There must be more to this...

Curiosity d8
1

There isn't a lot of light coming in from outside, so Isaiah turns on the bedside lamp. As he does so, he spots the shadow of something hidden inside the lampshade. A small letter, addressed to himself.

(Suicide letter will be sent in IC, but you can post it here later if you want)


There are also a few other things. One of the wardrobes were left open, with a square-shaped dustmark on its floor. A Briefcase, judging by the size. Finally, a half full bottle of champagne and a lonely wine glass hidden in a compartment for drinks.

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