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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia
Subject: Dusk in Drasnia
"Oh my violent, pretty man, one could never have enough of you,” Spite purred in reply to Nyx’s invitation, "Let us see how well the salty old dogs protect what's theirs shall we?”
A pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and a more-than-mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. “But of course,” he grinned before quaffing the remainder of his wine.
“Sister, dear,” Spite regarded Mallys as Nyx gathered his cloak about him and slithered from his seat, “Will you join us for a bit of sport?”
Whatever tongue it was in which the typically silent sister voiced her reply, it was none that Nyx had ever heard before and the syntax of the answer was lost to him. The tone of it, though, told him that Mallys would not be joining them on Drasnia’s streets tonight. It would be wise to pay attention to that, Nyx told himself regarding the DeMorias secret speech, his gaze panning the still-filling tavern as Sylla and Mallys clasped hands in their silent farewell, both the spoken and unspoken bits. Insight into such things often prove their worth at the most unexpected of times, yes?
The mith’ganni’s eyes flicked back to the twins as their parting gesture concluded and, sketching a bow to Mallys, he offered as reassuring a grin as he could manage. “I shall mind her, well, lovely,” he said as Spite slinked from her seat, “Not that I imagine you’ll worry overmuch, yes?”
“Lead the way, precious,” Spite cooed as Nyx’s eyes lifted from Mallys’.
“With pleasure,” he nodded, placing a hand at the small of her back – though not quite touching her - and ushering her gracefully through the crowd towards the door. Once outside and in the rapidly cooling night air, Nyx quickly scanned the streets looking for signs of Cayrimsa’s recent passing.
“Our earless leader left us an easy enough trail to follow,” he snickered, his eyes flicking over a series of faint footprints left in the mud by the witch’s too-large boots before dancing too meet with Spite’s again, “shall we shadow her steps until we reach the Reyal? See if she is as cautious as she is bold?”
((assuming that Nyx doesn’t have a problem picking up Cay’s trail… and that Spite has no objection to dogging the witch’s steps for a time, of course))
The pair slipped into the deepening shadows of the Drasnian dusk, then, expertly following the telltale signs of Cay’s passing through the streets and alleyways of the Braudian metropolis, never failing to notice the routine patrols of the city’s militia or the clumsy passing of another Hellkite, Sea Snake, or Nightcloak as they went. Nyx, of course, was more than accustomed to this routine and, while he did closely heed those signs that warranted interest, his attentions were just as intent on watching Spite… the way she moved (which, admittedly, he found distracting at times), her own attention and awareness of her surroundings and the goings on there, unseen or otherwise…
And so it went, swift, silent, and alert, all the way to where the Reyal River bisected Drasnia and to the fringes of what Nyx knew to be a Sea Snake holding of city blocks just on the southern banks. “Here, my beautiful bardess,” Nyx whispered, slinking deeper into a pocket of shadow where the alleyway they had followed dumped onto a more heavily travelled thoroughfare west of the Grinning Goblin, “is where the Sea Snakes would likely set their eyes on the comings and goings of nobles who visit our city… particularly those that might board at the Goblin.”
Beneath the folds of his cloak Nyx’s fingers moved to curl around the ready hilt of his blade even as his hawk-eyed gaze skimmed the intersecting streets and the structures packed about its corners. “Most like the Snakes often set their younger, more inexperienced members as scouts and lookouts,” he noted, “and there is one in particular whom I know, of late has been posted hereabouts recently. I scare him, for some reason, and for that reason, the boy is often eager to pass information my way… Let’s see if, mayhaps, he’s at his post tonight, yes? And if he might have any news of worth where Thanald is concerned…”
((OOC: Leaving it there for the time being… Since Nyx has, to this point, been working freelance, I imagine he might have made some contacts in organizations such as the Snakes and the Cloaks (as mentioned in the post, perhaps a young ‘lookout’ for the Snakes who is scared absolutely s#!tless of Nyx and, out of fear for what the elf might do to him, is typically eager to part with info if Nyx is able to find and/or corner him alone)… Figured it might be a good opportunity to RP a ‘hunt’ with Sylla and, perhaps, let our DM make the determination as to whether this particular lad is ‘available’…  Carry on as you see fit, GiGi… ))
Posted on 2008-06-24 at 17:43:46.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: I know... it's all my fault...
Let the beatings commence.
Finishing up and getting us out... just a wee bit left to polish off.
Posted on 2008-06-24 at 02:10:21.
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Topic: Olan's baby photobucket
Subject: Lose a baby battle?
No such thing, m'dear! Babies are the best thing ever, un expected, unplanned, or otherwise. If it weren't for mine, I'm pretty sure I'd be even more coo-coo than I already am.
Those pics do make ya wann drive to Bama and pinch some cheekies, though, huh? 
Posted on 2008-06-23 at 19:59:51.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: The end... or the beginning?
At first, Jal was at a loss as to why the fireball spell had failed… My reserves are low, yes, but there should be more than enough for at least this… but, as his disbelieiving eyes looked to his hands as if to verify that the fireball, in fact, hadn’t manifested, the urchin mage realized the problem. A thri-kreen throwing crystal had imbedded firmly and deeply in his chest, sundering the jagged, spidery-script tattoo that had bound the spell to him to begin with.
I’m… dead? he blinked dumbly at the edge of the crystal protruding from his chest and seemed almost confused by the spray of blood that had soaked his arms, hands, and face. I can do nothing more, then, my beloved, he realized, turning to seek out Adiren and, hopefully, at least let the former Red know that the ariel battle and ‘rescuing of Alloryn’ was now completely in his hands… “Valentine,” he croaked, blood filling his mouth even as two more of the thri-kreen crystals slammed into him and spun him about, “The girl! Mind the girl!”
It is time, my love…
“Wynter?” Jal’s eyes welled with tears of joy as the girl filled his sight – not the ethereal phantasm of her that he had become accustomed to over these last years but, rather, Wynter as he remembered her in life; as beautiful and warm and alive as she had ever been… “Time, my love,” he asked, almost hesitant to try and touch her for fear that this, perhaps, was nothing more than an illusion… The tears flowed freely and, despite the pain of the mortal wounds he had suffered, the once lost mage knew he was found when Wynter took his hand and held it to her cheek.
Yes, my sweet Spellbinder, it is finally time. You have just one last task, she smiled softly at him and kissed the palm of his hand before releasing it and floating slowly earthward towards where Arien still battled Dalmer, Follow me to the end, Jal. We have a demon to defeat.
The Spellbinder, seeing the scene below and reading the knowing smile on Wynter’s lovely face, understood what had to be done to make his redemption complete and to, finally, make his reunion with Wynter a reality. Smiling, Jal maintained the fly spell long enough to position himself over the man with the demonic arm and, as the last of his mortal breath passed his lips, released the spell along with his staff, and let his body hurtle towards the ground. He didn’t feel the impact, of course - he was already free of his body by the time it crashed into the ground and broke beyond any hopes of repair – but, hand in hand with his love, he did watch as his last act on this plane of existence served to distract Arien’s opponent long enough for the heir of House Thedell to score a killing blow on the abomination.
It is done, my love, Wynter beamed, wrapping her arms around him as they pirouetted above the ruined grounds of the Keep, There is nothing more for us here… we can go now.
He kissed her, then, softly and lovingly as he had always ached to do since even before he had escaped the Master, and held her close to him as they drifted closer to the earth. There is just one more thing, Wynter, my love, he whispered as they reached the ground and floated for a moment near where his body now lay, I should say goodbye…
She nodded her understanding and, hand-in-hand with him, moved among these last companions of Jal Spellbinder as the urchin-mage’s spirit bid his farewells to each in turn. They found Maximus, first; the one among the group that had accepted Jal as he was from the beginning and, despite perceived oddities, befriended and even protected him as best he could throughout it all. Jal placed a hand on the man-mountain’s shoulder, smiled his thanks, and embraced the former gladiator (whether Maximus knew it or not). You were a true friend, Maximus, and, should it be in my power to do so, I will repay your kindness as often as I can until, at last, we meet again.
Dapple was close by and, as such, came next in line for Jal’s visitation. He and the rogue had never had many words pass between them even though, of the group, it was likely with this one that he had the most in common… outcasts and shadows, both, with secrets kept that none in this world would likely uncover by chance alone… He is a good lad, Jal said to Wynter as they floated around the dark little thief, I hope that, someday, whatever it is that eats at his insides… at his spirit… will be reconciled. I… I don’t know what to say to him…
Her, Wynter corrected.
Really? Jal looked, uncertain, at Dapple for a moment… he’d never have known… Interesting… At a loss for what to say or do for Dapple Moon, Jal finally decided that, if nothing else, that the thief should at least profit from anything that he had left behind. He whispered in Dapple’s ear, reminding her that his staff, his dagger, and his cloak would likely fetch a fair penny somewhere and, should she care to have them… You’ll know where they’d be best sold.
Then there was Char. The ranger had never been comfortable around Jal, perhaps was even a bit frightened or unnerved by the mage’s ability to see and converse with the dead, but had nonetheless accepted Jal into the group and, at times, even seemed to gain a bit of understanding as to Jal’s madness. Jal kept a respectful distance from the rugged man but did pass close enough to impart his thanks.
Kilgrim, like Maximus, Jal felt comfortable in touching and, as he neared the dwarven battle-cleric, reached out a hand and placed ghostly fingertips on the tattooed axes on Kilgrim’s brow. Extend my thanks to your cousin, good dwarf, he said, smiling at Kilgrim, and my love to Mistress Gwanelle. You honor your kind, your kin, and your God, Kilgrim. Blessed be.
Jal looked skyward, then, spying Adrian still flying in the pre-dawn skies. Had Jal lived, he thought, he might have asked Adrian to, perhaps, teach him a bit more of the combat arts so that he might have been more useful in future missions. He would have taunted and teased you relentlessly, my love Wynter smiled.
Yes, Jal smiled in return, but he also wouldn’t have denied me… He’s no Imperial, after all.
Finally, Jal and Wynter moved towards Arien, touching the knight’s broken shield as they floated past, and, when they reached the battle weary Hier of House Thedell, Jal stopped, and bowed low. It was an honor and a privilege, Lord Thedell, to have served at your side and died in your defense. I have no doubts, now, that any of these remaining would make the same sacrifice. Keep them well, my lord, these are true friends and, trust me, such things are hard to find in this world.
Are you ready, my love, Wynter querried as Jal rose from his bow.
I am, he smiled, taking her hand in his again before looking at each of his companions one last time…
They’ll be fine, Jal, she promised.
I know, he answered as the material world faded away, revealing the portal to the next plane, but I will miss them nonetheless…
((OOC: Okay… there we be… all wrapped up. *sniffsniff* I’ll leave it up to you all as to whether or not you got any sense or sight of Jal’s ‘farewells’… Thanks for a fantastic adventure, all. *bows* It truly has been my extreme pleasure to participate.))
Posted on 2008-06-23 at 19:08:14.
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: Hooray for updates!
If you happen to post before I manage another (and depending on exactly how 'far ahead' you're wanting to update), Lou, I had imagined that Nyx and Sylla would do a little recon of the general area surrounding the Grinning Goblin - testing the Sea Snakes watchfulness, noting all possible entrances and exits from the Inn itself, and perhaps even getting an eyeball on Thanald and/or his entourage, if at all possible... And who knows, depending on where the night leads our 'Assassin Prince' and the 'Sultry Sister' things that don't even involve the mission could transpire. 
All of the above, of course, dependant on GiGi's take of the situation and her thoughts as to what might transpire, as well. If I can get caught up on everything else, I'll endeavor to tack a little something up to this one, myself, today. 
Posted on 2008-06-23 at 16:57:13.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: 10-Q
Thanks, Blammm-o! Glad you liked it... now, whatever you do, don't let the Kid suddenly forget how to shoot... Dash is counting on them as is outside the bank ta keep him suckin' air on the inside, here.
Posted on 2008-06-23 at 15:58:06.
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Topic: Blatantly Obvious Lies
Subject: Mildly Carlinesque. ;)
If someone rang your bell and pulled your hose you'd be red, too!
Do you know the way to San Jose?
Posted on 2008-06-23 at 13:39:04.
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Topic: George Carlin
Subject: Sad...
Carlin was one of a kind and never ever 'stood down' in his entire career. A sad day for the comedic world indeed.
At some point, today, everyone should say those "seven words" in George's memory.
Posted on 2008-06-23 at 12:20:35.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: If ya believe in fairies...
For a split second, Sam thought that luck was finaly beginning to smile on him. He’d managed to keep himself free of being hogtied, survived a shot from Ludlow’s equalizer that right shoulda killed him, and, better yet, had managed to rearm himself with something a little more substantial than the last ditch derringers. He opened up on Ethan with the newly acquired Colt and backed it up with the last shot from the tiny hold-out. He’d plugged Ethan with the colt as the man dove for cover behind the chair but…
“Gorramit,” Dash cursed when neither shot was lucky enough to find a place between the big man’s eyes. He tossed the now useless derringer aside and, seeing as how there was little else for use as such, hauled Jones’ corpse into place as a meat-shield. It was then that he spotted the other two out of the corner of his eye.
“Oh shi..” Dash struggled to sling Jones’ body around, hoping the corpse would take the brunt of whatever damage the brothers’ bullets might do. The only thing that followed the bark and boom of the weapons-fire, though, was the crackle of spider-webbing safety glass and the pock and thud of bullet resistant walls. Banker bought bullet-proofin’, Sam realized, grinning at his luck while drawing Jones’ other colt free, Probl’y his wife’s idear, if’n I… ooof…
Ethan’s Python boomed and Jones’ ragdoll body jerked violently against him. The impact of the shots staggering Dash back a few steps before he could even think to draw down on the other man…An’ this wong bah duhn ain’t gonna take many more hits neither, Sam mused even as he lifted the colts and aimed at Ludlow.
“Hey, you Cheong Bao Ho Tze Chwen,” the huen dahn had apparently had time enough to haul Miss Brigit up by her hair and put iron to her head, “Drop them or she’s next!”
Gorram mud-suckin’ filthy sonofa… Sam thought for a split second that he could sure put a bullet twixt Ethan’s peepers from this distance but tweren’t no guarantee in it that Miss Brigit wouldn’t get killed or uglied up if he tried it… Can’t have none o’ that, Dash. Poor weaseluva tellers a’ready kilt cuz ya weren’t on yer toes.
“Yer a ruttin’ piece o’ mi tian gohn, mister,” Sam snarled as he prepared to loosen his grip on the colts and shove the meat shield aside…
FOSHOOSH…KABOOOM!!!
What the hell? Wong bah duhn! Where… gorramit… Miss Brigit… the hell ya does, Ludlow… Dash thought as he found himself on the floor once more. His ears were ringing and his vision was blurred by shock as much as the dust and debris floating in the air. He blinked trying to clear his vision and to his surprise (and another testament to Wyatt’s ruttin’ belief in luck) saw his beloved Avenger within reach… Whatever had happened during and immediately after the explosion that left him feeling like he’d been kicked by a mule had also scattered his gear all over the place. The brothers, paying him no mind, were in the process of gathering up his gear… Likely figger me fer dead… and Ludlow was standing in the blown-open doorway, back turned to Sam and Python still trained on Miss Brigit’s pretty little temple…Definitely figger me fer dead, he nodded, wincing as he eased a hand towards the Avenger hoping not to draw the attention of either the brothers or Ethan.
Only th’ ruttin’ Kid coulda made somethin’ go boom like that in a drier’n a popcorn fart town like this, Dash grinned to himself as the familiar grip of the revolver married to his palm and his finger slid over the trigger. Means the calvary’s done rode in, puhn yoh. I’m believin’ in the luck business more an’ more…
It also meant that Sam was free to take his pick of targets and, if the luck held out, Wyatt, the Kid, an’ whoever else had come-a-runnin’ would surely drop the rest before they got a shot off… Hell, Wyungsung’s done put one Ludlow down…
He heard the shattered glass and debris fall from his still prone body as his arm snapped up and took aim at the larger target. The two brothers huddled close together left less room for error…More ta hit an’ less ta worry ‘bout puttin’ one through Ludlow an’ inta th’ schoolmarm… Don’t ruttin’ miss the shot, Wyatt; oncet I shoot these goathumpers, Ludlow ain’t gonna look my way but fer a second…
((Allllllrighty then… There we have it… Sam’s aimin’ for the brothers and hoping for headshots (meaning, in his condition, he’s liable to hit one of the grenades that one of those poopers has scooped up  ) and hoping that Wyatt, the Kid, Wolf, or somebody will be able to “lay low another Ludlow” before he caps Brigit or Sam.))
Posted on 2008-06-22 at 20:16:56.
Edited on 2008-06-22 at 20:20:50 by Alacrity
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Topic: Blatantly Obvious Lies
Subject: Babies?!?!
Dude... those aren't babies, they're giant sea-monkies resultant of the flooding in the midwest having washed right through the Sea-monkey processing plant and inundating the world with them... And Meri, I'm pretty sure that Duncan is the source of all that water... He's just attempting a sneaky little cover-up so that noone knows that he's responsible for the Sea-monkey infestation.
((Tosses Meri a life jacket, some sandbags, a canoe, and 10 lbs of beef jerky... Seriously... Keeping the good vibes out for you folks. ))
Who was that masked man?
Posted on 2008-06-20 at 20:05:56.
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Topic: Corrupt a wish
Subject: Granted.
You sleep exceedingly well... Nighty-night Rip VanWinkle. See ya in a century or so.
I wish there were more hours in the day that weren't consumed by work.
Posted on 2008-06-20 at 19:46:08.
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Topic: Bumper Stickers
Subject: An oldy but a goody
Horn broken. Watch for finger.
lmao @ 667: Neighbor of the Beast
Posted on 2008-06-20 at 19:15:34.
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Topic: scattergories!
Subject: Rock on!
1. What is your name? Robert
2. A 4 letter word: Rope
3. A vehicle: Rover
4. A city: Rapid City
5. A boy's name: Randy
6. A girl's name: Rachel
7. Alcoholic drink: RUM!!!!
8. An occupation: Rodeo Clown
9. Something you wear: raggedy jeans
10. A celebrity: Ray Romano
11. A food: rhubarb (would go great in a pie with Meri's strawberries)
12. Something found in a bathroom: Razor
13. Reason for being late: Repeated use of the snooze alarm
14. Something you shout: R U insane!?!
15. An animal: Raccoon
16. A body part: retina (thought I was gonna say rectum, dincha?)
17. Word to describe yourself: Ragin' Lunatic
Posted on 2008-06-20 at 19:03:53.
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia
Subject: Stare into the Night
“What if he does like boys?” Cay had managed to surprise him by leaning across the table and even more by actually meeting his eyes. A hand had, of course, found the hilt of the kukri strapped to his thigh but, otherwise, Nyx’s surprise at the witch’s advance went unbetrayed, neither did his expression change when she asked; “Are you willing to tempt his loins?”
“I am,” Nyx said flatly, his gaze locked to Cay’s, “but what of you? Should this one’s appetites yearn for a bitter, mana-slinging carp, are you prepared to be the one that offers to dangle from his hook?” The mith’ganni leaned forward himself, moving his face even closer to the crop-eared half-blood. His eyes narrowed a bit and bored into hers, searching for the death in those dark orbs. “Never doubt, witch, that killing is more religion than occupation to me,” he breathed in a deadly whisper, “and never question the lengths to which I may go to accomplish the task.”
The serving wench had just returned with their drinks, shooting a fleeting look of disapproval in the witch’s direction upon spying the dagger stabbed into the tabletop before delivering the libations. “From Avenon,” the barmaid said of the wine she placed before Nyx and the DeMoria Sisters, “From the vineyards at Sethbrook, literally on the other side of the continent...you'll not get any better in this part of the world...”
The elf offered a nearly imperceptible nod in response and his eyes may have ticked, ever so briefly, in the serving wench’s direction when he uttered “Fine” through clenched teeth. Otherwise his gaze and attentions stayed firmly fixed on the half-breed across the table.
Cay oozed back across the table at that point, snatching her blade from the table as she withdrew. “If you don't like my idea on where to go,” she snarled from beneath the brim of her hat, “find a better one on your own, I just happen to trust it. Now then, as for your scouting, have at it, go off and watch the fat aristocrat.” And with that she stood up, bouncing into the serving wench, from whom she grabbed the glass, downed the contents in one long drink and slammed the glass on the table, again wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Now then; back here tomorrow afternoon,” the snippy sorceress had begun to sound as if she seen fit to put herself in charge of the lot of them where this contract was concerned, “after we've gotten some bloody information? I'll check out the Goblin, I might still have a contact that will help me out with that...”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” Nyx nodded faintly, his tone now as dismissive of Cay as it had been of the serving wench a moment ago… Or would I be wiser to slit you from gullet to gizzard where you stand, right now, he wondered, reaching for his wine with one hand and began sliding the kukri free of its sheath with the other…
((OOC: Assuming here that the Sisters DeMoria agree to the meeting time and Cay stalks from the place as posted))
“Slitch,” Nyx growled, absently letting his half-bared blade slip back into its scabbard as Cay, huddled in her cloak, disappeared through the door of the Hydra’s Breath and into Drasnia’s street. “That one,” he smirked, turning his eyes back to the DeMoria Demons, now, “will either end up a great asset or a great liability, yes?”
Finally, he lifted the wine to his lips and indulged in a sampling of the stuff. To the barmaid’s credit it was quite a decent vintage. After, at last, swallowing the stuff, Nyx’s moonlight eyes studied the blood-red color of the remainder as he swirled it around in the goblet before taking another, heartier swig. His gaze swept the tavern once more …
Humans, he sneered inwardly, noting that the setting sun had prompted the Hydra’s Breath to fill more and more with Drasnia’s citizenry, like paching roaches in the dark.
…His glinting gaze then returned to the sisters, the faint sneer on his lips writhing its way into something more akin to a smile. “This place grows less and less conducive to discreet conversation,” the assassin said, “Should we take our leave and find someplace more appropriate to continue… A quick peek at the Goblin for ourselves, perhaps, or a test of the Sea Snakes watchers?” He tasted the wine once more, licking an errant droplet from his lower lip; “Or, like our darling Cay, have you lovelies had your fill of my company until the morrow?”
((I’ll wait for an answer from Spite and/or Mallys before detemining what Nyx does with his night time hours.))
Posted on 2008-06-20 at 18:51:20.
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Topic: Q&A: The Return Of The Prodigal Son
Subject: I missed it, too...
Was all set to swing into round two against the Satanic Scoobies and then realized that the colorspray spell had befuddled the poor poochies and Ash gave 'em a quick 'finish ya off' whilst they were snoozin'...
I hope to be able to post soon... been a busy week and I haven't been keeping up as I'd like to (and, now, after re-reading and figuring out that the hounds are kaput, I'll need to re-write what I've already started... Way to support literacy, Eol )...
Posted on 2008-06-20 at 17:39:51.
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: Fo' sho'!
Those 'silver screen moments' have been fascinating, thus far, Cap'n... Definitely curious to discover how that bit connects with our little sliver of the story.
Good point regarding contacts in Drasnia, too, Meri... Any thoughts or inputs from the DM as to how we might want to approach that? I would imagine that, even at the lower levels of our characters, we might each have a small handful of sources (outside of the Hellkite Syndicate) to draw upon... Are those NPCs that you'd like to dole out for us, Lou, or should we 'invent' a contact or two (within reason, of course.... highly doubtful that any of us would have an 'in' with the Captain of the Guard or the High Priest of Naxiir, for example, but an Inn owner, shop keeper, bottom of the barrel psuedo noble wouldn't be out of the question would it?) *shrugs*
Posted on 2008-06-20 at 15:09:35.
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: For the record...
...Nyx isn't protesting any of the plans that have been put forth, thus far... His opinion is there is merit to bits and pieces of all of them. However - and hopefully I hinted at this in that last post - he is suggesting that all of them might want to consider a bit of info gathering before they "try to set a snare in a path where no rabbits will wander."
Posted on 2008-06-19 at 18:52:04.
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Topic: Star Wars Trivia...Useless and Otherwise
Subject: I'm with the band!
It was Sy Snootles and the Max Rebo Band, I believe... though I'm not sure i spelled either correctly.
Question (should be waaaay easy I would think): What did the Lars family farm produce?
Posted on 2008-06-19 at 18:46:23.
Edited on 2008-06-19 at 18:47:24 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia
Subject: A plan set in stone is easily broken
Nyx had fallen nearly as silent as Mallys since he’d given his order to the barmaid and had settled back into his seat, allowing himself to relax a bit without lowering his guard as his eyes continued their slow surveillance of the tavern and his ears remained trained on the conversation at this very table. While both Cay and Spite had both made feasible suggestions as to the best way to accomplish their task, they also seemed set upon finding faults with whatever the other might have suggested… And this is why I prefer to work alone, yes?… Had the job been offered to him alone, the plan would have been simple in design.
Gather all the necessary information, first, on both the mark and the location – the rough sketch provided by Vadim, as usual, was entirely too vague to be of any use – case the Grinning Goblin, become familiar with the comings and goings of its employees and patrons and, should one of those present themselves as useful, ply them with either gold or the promise of a not-so-swift-and-far-from-painless death to glean the intelligence necessary...
Which parts of the Inn are least used and easiest to slip through unnoticed? Are there unattended points of access? Which room belongs to the mark? How many bodyguards and other attendants might the noble have brought along in his entourage and what were their skills? Does Thanald keep a particular schedule and, if so, when in that schedule is he most likely to be furthest from his attendants? Does he, perhaps, forego his bodyguards when he visits the whorehouses, perhaps… shoo them from the room if a prostitute or sex slave is delivered? What are his vices and how can they be exploited?
…Secondly, review that intelligence and determine where and when the mark would be best taken and ensure that there are options should things change. Then, finally, sever the thread attaching the man to his life and retrieve the letter that Dmitrova had requested (but, of course, deliver it to the Hellkite captain only after having the letter looked at by a third party… payment was easier to negotiate if one had the upper hand on one’s employer come the end of the job, after all). Simple.
His gaze snaked back to the table as Cay began her carving of the tabletop and Nyx couldn’t help but smile appreciatively as the witch spelled out her own version of the plan – she had even managed to think about the security that this Corycian breeder might have in tow…
“Now then,” Cay demanded, huddling herself behind folded arms and the shield provided by the brim of that damned hat, “any questions or arguments with that plan?”
Impressive, little cousin, Nyx thought, offering a fractional nod, For one I’d taken as no more than a witch and a torturer you do think like an assassin, don’t you? There were, of course, arguments that he might make against the plan but it would have been futile to argue the fact that he was certain he didn’t need any of them to return the breeder’s head or his blank letter.
“Oh and by the way… the name is Cay, or at least witch,” the sorceress added as a point of note, “not round ear pretender, at least if you’d like to keep the pretty little points on your own ears that is…”
Nyx laughed out loud then, his eyes flashing as they darted from Cay to Mallys to Sylla and back. “Cay it is, then,” he smirked, leaning forward a bit and resting his elbows on the table, “my delightful, blunt-eared cousin.” Despite her oddness and obvious hatred of anything that so much smelled of elves, the little witch had not only endured the antagonism that had been leveled at her by himself and Spite but, also, had not hesitated to turn her own brand back at them. “The only flaw I can see with this plan, Cay,” he continued as one slim finger traced over the grooves left by her dagger, “aside from the waiting above a fish market for our mark to be lured in is this. Supposing this breeder’s loins are stirred more by boys than they might be by charms the likes of which Spite may ply him with…”
He allowed his eyes to wander shamelessly over Sylla at that point, thinking that even some fattened, simpering, breeder noble would have to be barking mad to not succumb to those wiles, orientation or preferences aside.
“…Should that be the case, you and I might be waiting quite some time for our mark to be delivered, yes?
We would all be fools to rush headlong into committing to any plan, at this point, my lovelies,” he grinned, coaxing a sharp tone from Cay’s dagger with the flick of a fingernail against it’s standing blade, “I would suggest that we all focus on learning what we can about our mark and his habits before we plan when, where, and precisely how we might relieve him of his life and letter, yes?”
Posted on 2008-06-19 at 18:21:41.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: LOL
Yeah... that accent has a tendancy to leak out all over the place, I guess. Mac tends to grab hold and shake ya by the nuerons on occassion.
Also, Meri, don't feel as if you have to play it as a 'last minute' arrival for your character. If you prefer to do so you can always go on the assumption/presumption that Sojourn has been aboard since "day 1"... completely up to you.
Coming close to finishing the launch post, gang... hope to have it tacked up in the next little bit... Then I need to work posts for CWWLLO, Rocinante, Trilogy, Drasnia, Prodigal Son... Where me damned coffee, Weatherly?!?!
Posted on 2008-06-19 at 14:36:50.
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Topic: Help Lou Design a Campaign Setting!
Subject: OoooooOOOOOOooooo!
Nifty map, Wyrmstring. I've already started on my own map of Drasnia but this one should come in very handy...
Posted on 2008-06-19 at 12:49:21.
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Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: *happy dance...*
*...in an evil fashion, of course*
It loves posteses, my preciousssss....
Posted on 2008-06-19 at 12:35:45.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation Persephone
Subject: Catch up...
Convo with Kel
Stardate: 2374.09.03
The Cerberus – Captain’s Ready Room – 00:06 hours
Kelsey Gavison’s scarred face suddenly flashed into being on the heretofore blank screen to which Mac had been speaking. Mary, mother o’ Jayzus, Mac winced inwardly as the image of the Charon’s CO resolved on the panel, I’d ‘eard th’ tales, lad, but wha’ inna bloody ‘ell ‘ave ye done tae yerself? MacTavish, of course, knew what had become of Gavison in the years since they’d served together aboard the Discovery (and, worse, knew what had happened to Sherry and the babe at the hands of the Jem’Hadar not long after the start of this bloody war) but this was the first he’d seen that face unbandaged or conscious in quite some time.
“My take,” Gavison said, “Is that you and I have finally done it, Mac. We’ve twisted enough Starfleet admiral’s short an curlies into knots that they’ve decided to do us in once and for all, hoping we do some damage to the Dominion in the process.” The Charon’s captain’s face was an unearthly glow of blue in the midst of the dark see of his quarters. He took a deep breath and shook his head, the fire in his eyes burning back any weariness he was feeling.
Mac snorted around the rim of the glass of scotch and shot down another quick nip; “Aye, lad, tha’s th’ vera same smell I go’ from th’ bloody theng. Fer a mission sech as this, we’re a fair sight from bein’ pr’pared proper if ye want th’ truth o’ et…”
“No, Mac. I’m overreacting. It’s late, and I’m pissed as hell at developments—probably because I didn’t get to choose this mission and we’re going in wearing slippers instead of Klingon combat boots.”
MacTavish leaned back in his seat and offered a fractional nod in response. It wasn’t that long ago that it would have been Mac making those kinds of statements and Gavison – the Gavison that was, anyway – would have been doing his by-the-book best to piss down his back with logic and reason and..
“Romulans, huh?” Gavison suddenly shifted gears. “Ever think you’d see the day they were on your ship without phaser burns through their chests, or security bracelets about their wrists? Let alone aiding Starfleet in a critical mission?”
“Aye,” Mac chuffed as an ironic smirk spread on his lips and his eyes looked up from their contemplation of the melting ice cubes in his glass, “If ye’d’ve told me jus’ a week ago tha’ I’d be captainin’ a boat wi’ but a one o’ them smarmy, point-eared bastards, I’d’ve been inclined ta stuff meself inna nearest tairpeda tube an’ ‘ave meself launched, aye?”
((OOC: Back and forth as you see fit… ))
The CEO
Stardate: 2374.09.03
USS Cerberus - Captain’s Ready Room – 0422 hours
Mac had just changed into a clean uniform when the chime sounded. Tha’ll be me CEO, he figured, shrugging into the jacket but not bothering to fasten it. “Aye! Enter!”
The door hissed open and a surprisingly young looking man in ENG Golds stepped smartly into the ready room. As Cameron was a last minute replacement for Tier, Mac hadn’t had time to review the man’s roster completely but was sure that he remembered the man’s service record reflecting dates that were surely before this one might’ve been born. Farg it, Mac’s mind shrugged as he eyed the CEO, Jes’ s’long as ‘e’s go’ ‘alf o’ Tier’s qualifications et dinnae make a diff’rence.
((Assuming a “Lt Cdr Duncan Cameron reporting as ordered, yaddah,yaddah))
“Stand a’ ease, Commander,” Mac rumbled, “I understand ye’ve no’ been abaird better’n an hour, lad, an’ I know ye’ve likely no’ had th’ time tae as much as scratch yer arse an’ find yer billet, so I’ll be keepin’ this short, aye?
I’m sure yer aware, Mester Cameron, tha’ we’ve go’ a Romulan detachment abaird, aye? An’ yer likely more’n aware tha’ th’ majority of ‘em’ve been pokin’ aboot in yer engine room an’ beatin’ the bloody hell oota me boat gettin’ their cloak installed. Aside from tha’ ray o’ sunshine, lad, ‘ere be th’ impairtant bits.
Fairst: yer crew’s been wairkin’ their arses off gettin’ this ship shaken doon an’ set ta deploy. Figura’s been a bloody ‘ard taskmaster an’ if yer keen on et, I’d recommend keepin’ ‘im close an’ per’aps designatin’ ‘im as yer alternate.
Second: ‘ard as they’ve been wairkin’ I dinnae expect tha’ ye’ll be lettin’ up on a one o’ ‘em afore all the bugs’re chased off me boat an’ we’re well onna way tae DS9 wi’ the field test o’ tha’ cloak in our wake.
Third: Yer orders likely gave ye a brief onna mission parameters, aye? Told ye tha’ we were sairch an’ recovery an’ tha’ engagements wi’ th’ enemy would be minimal…”
((A nod… a yessir… a ‘what the hell are you talking about?!))
“Aye. Well, Mester Cameron, I dinnae give a good twist o’ Charlie’s knickers wha’ those fargin’ orders said. I expect ye tae run yer shop as ef this were combat mission. Damage Control Teams active an’ on post ‘round th’ clock, life-suppairt kept ta minimal in unnecessary sections o’ th’ boat an’ tha’ power reseairved fer tactical systems an’ tha’ bloody Rommie cloak. Ye know th’ drill… an’ ef ye don’, I suggest ye lairn et inna next eigh’y-sev’n minutes. I want Cerberus free o’ all umbilicals an’ clear o’ this dock as o’ zero-six-hundred.
“C’n ye make tha’ ‘appen, Commander Cameron? Anythin’ yer no’ pairfectly clear on?”
((reply, questions))
“Grand,” Mac nodded, stepping around his desk and making for the door of the ready room, “Tha’ jus’ leaves us wi’ number four, then, does et no’?
‘Ere et is. Number Four: Welcome abaird the Cerberus, Mester Cameron, and get yer arse oota me office an’ get me ship inta the ink!”
((OOC: There’s a bit for Cameron and Kel… Mac’s heading for the Bridge at this point and the next bit will cover launch and the rest... If not up later tonight, it'll be first thing tomorrow))
Posted on 2008-06-19 at 00:23:56.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Consider yerself added, lass!
Yer post es awaitin' yer arrival en the science department. I dinnae know fer certain whether Lt Solus still be wi' us er no', s'feel free tae post any interaction wi' th' man as ye see fit. Ef th' lad retairns a' some point, we'll figger 'e were p'sessed by a crystalline entity er sommat!
Post coming right along, folks... should have us moving soonishly.
Posted on 2008-06-18 at 23:07:20.
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Topic: Star Wars Trivia...Useless and Otherwise
Subject: Dang Eol! Ignore the rules whydoncha?!?!
M'kay... maybe that Q was a bit too obscure... I know that someone around here (besides me) knows the answer but, just to clear the path... i was thinking of the Yuzzem.
And there's Duncan with the stumper! How many fighters returned? Wha-huuuuuh? All I can come up with is 'all of 'em that didn't get 'sploded!' Never thought to count.
Posted on 2008-06-18 at 19:37:51.
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What game do you own the 
Return to Charadun - Q&A
The Morphing Game
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