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Topic: A Cold Day in Hell
Subject: Keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times...
The gloomy interior of the scramjet was lit only from the console and the light from Charlie’s computer. In the artificial light, Charlie’s pallor was made luminous, and her eyes seemed to glow from within the hieroglyphic markings of her eye makeup. The silvery blue orbs flickered up to glance around occasionally, but were mostly fixed on the scrolling information of crew dossiers. She’d positioned the laptop so that the LT had the best view, and could advance the information himself when he was ready…she was accustomed to being the fastest reader around, and had learned patience.
She paused in her reading when the first alarm sounded and barely suppressed a whoop of glee when the drop slammed her back into the web harness. Charlie loved anything fast and dangerous, though brief jaunts to amusement parks near her posting were all she could ever negotiate. She’d wanted to buy a motorcycle, had researched the options extensively, but had been overruled…seems the powers that be wouldn’t risk her splattering herself to bits on a donorcycle…
The second alarm roused Charlie from her speed induced ecstasy and she blinked a moment in confusion. "Chief," the LT said calmly from beside her, as if discussing the weather, "please tell me that the flashing red light means the bathroom is occupied."
“Crappity! Don’t I wish!” Charlie muttered, and struggled with the spider's web of a harness holding her in place. Getting the harness undone, she pushed to her feet and made her way to the console, bracing herself with every step in case of direction changes.
Leaning into the console, Charlie’s fingers caressed the keyboard with a lover’s touch, tapping the commands for a system status update. Characters spilled across the screen in response, and she read them almost as fast as the pixels flashed onscreen.
OOC: Need to know what the problem is. Charlie will do what she can to diagnose and fix the problem….hopefully, it’s just that the inflight movie is overdue for return to Blockbuster, and not anything more serious, lol
Edited after the physics lesson
Posted on 2007-09-27 at 01:15:55.
Edited on 2007-10-08 at 13:37:58 by Vanadia
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: Overwhelmed
Dapple had slipped up the stairs, making no more noise than a breeze through a tomb, but it was for naught. Before she reached the top of the stairs, fresh air and smoke and blood teased her nose, so she knew something drastic had changed. No door was awaiting her lock picks.
Indeed, no hallway, either. Dapple gaped at the carnage, and instinct alone had her dodge the burning body as it fell past her. She’d seen magic at work, and knew the best way to counter it was a knife between the ribs of the wielder, but this…this was an insane amount of power.
She shivered within her loose shroud of clothes and glanced over to Char, who motioned with a toss of his shaggy head that they return below. Gratitude washed over her and she complied without a word.
Down below, she let Char describe the situation while she fought to hide her trembling. She’d faced bigger and stronger enemies, and held her own, but this was too much for one little monster, however evil.
And so we will run away…to kill more Greens another day? Perhaps that is wisest…you’re learning…. The black voice from her soul sounded stronger than it had in some time, and Dapple found with some weariness, that she had nothing to counter it’s words.
Posted on 2007-09-22 at 12:45:03.
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Topic: The Guiding Light Q&A
Subject: Move it out
I"ll try to manage a post this weekend, but other than pickign up a few days rations in town, I suggest we see about a boat to ferry us to the lighthouse and be gone...no need to "play through" the shopping part 
Posted on 2007-09-21 at 01:58:35.
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Topic: A Cold Day in Hell Q&A
Subject: To Bromern
Want to PM our conversation in the mess hall rather than posting in game...from your post, you intended the conversation to be private rather than overheard by others.
Can you PM more than one recipient? That way DM is included
Posted on 2007-09-17 at 18:50:13.
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Topic: A Cold Day in Hell
Subject: Are we there yet? Whoosh!
OOC: Backposting based on dialogue with DM
As Charlie finished her packing, the computer running the search programs gave a long low wolf whistle, and as usual, it made her smile a wicked little grin. Popping up from her crouch by her kit, she keyed a few commands into the keyboard, black nailed fingers flying, and transferred the dossiers of her new team and official outline of Project Twilight Seed to her laptop.
Shutting down her laptop, she packed it carefully in it’s case, the neoprene cover making it waterproof and providing some insulation against the coming cold. She’d have some light reading for the plane ride, and she couldn’t wait.
(Mess Hall, 07:45)
OOC: Not sure if Bro will post the inspection of Blake’s equipment and kit bag, but will backpost if necessary. Charlie is, however, very deliberate in ensuring she’s packed up again well before the others arrive. Sarge can inspect the others all he wants, he doesn’t have the right to demand to inspect her equipment.
Equipment re-packed and secured, Charlie waited for the Lieutenant to dismiss her before making her way to the food tables. She grabbed a can of Red Bull, a coffee mug and the most sugary donut or muffin she could find before making her way to a table. Spotting Lee and Johannsen, she slid in beside them and dug into her breakfast. (If Lee insists on saluting her, she’ll roll her eyes, then grin and tell him, “At ease, dude…no need for the theatrics with me, k? Save it for the trained apes.”). Pouring the Red Bull into her coffee cup, she pulls a small jar out of her kit and sprinkles brown granules into the cup and stirs vigorously. “Instant coffee,” she explains when eyebrows are raised,” the Bull just doesn’t have enough juice for this high octane engine.”
Over her breakfast of champions, Charlie chats with the others, asking them about past missions, their experiences, anything they’re willing to share. When she asks you a question, she looks you straight in the eye as you answer. It’s as if she truly wants to know. For her own part, she tells little, claiming she “messes with computers for the Man, you know?”
When the Staff Sergeant arrives for inspection, she lets the others do their show and tell, taking the food trays away and standing off to the side. When the Staff Sergeant apologizes, she watches him coolly, but stares into his eyes searchingly for a moment before returning the salute.
“I wish you hadn’t needed to be ordered to do that, Staff Sergeant,” she replies in a mild tone,” but we are all bound by who we are, I suppose. I’ll take this mission as an opportunity to ponder any disciplinary action. Who knows, you may yet surprise me.” With that, she slings her equipment packs into place and heads out the door to hop onto the truck awaiting them.
At the airfield, Charlie grins back at Corporal Bale, finding his eagerness infectious. When he makes a comment about there being a weight limit, she leans in confidentially towards him,” It’s ok, Bale, my man, I ate lightly.”
But it’s when they are aboard the B-52 and taken to the scramjet that Charlie’s eyes really light up. Her orange jumpsuit quivers with suppressed excitement as the Corporal describes the little jet.
"The X-66 is computer guided," he explains. "You won't be needing a pilot. Once the B-52 gets up to twenty thousand, the X-66 will launch, take you up to forty thousand, and kick in the burners. At Mach six, it will still take you better than two hours to make the flight to Antarctica, but I can't think of a quicker way to go almost nine thousand miles." He grins and shakes his head. "Why someone would want to go there that fast is beyond me!"
“Oh man, “Charlie wriggles in her harness,” The X-66 is totally the bomb! Tell me, the AI, is it the XJ-76 or the Sendai 180? The XJ has the killer geo-positional guidance systems but the situational gyrocomputative capabilities of the Sendai just blow my mind! All the calculations needed to keep one little errant air flow from sending you into a face plant at Mach Six. Oh trust me, boys and girls,” she assured her team mates, “we are in for one primo ride!”
With a happy sigh, Charlie settles back into her harness, looking like a kid jumping into their favorite ride at the amusement park.
Posted on 2007-09-16 at 03:08:12.
Edited on 2007-11-13 at 12:29:26 by Vanadia
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Topic: The Guiding Light Q&A
Subject: Sluggish pace
Ok, so we suffered a bit of a delay right at the start of the game, but I'm sure we are cool. As for roping us in a quest, I'd say unless people post otherwise, they'll be joining Ena out to the lighthouse in the morning.
Ummm...Tann? Why did your character stand? Ena suggested leaving in the morning, not immediately
Posted on 2007-09-11 at 12:07:08.
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Topic: A Cold Day in Hell Q&A
Subject: I'll be posting up to plane
Hopefully tonight, otherwise Thursday. With only three months till my mat leave, my bosses are determined to wring every last bit of work out of me, so I am in planes every few days until second week of October (my own personal "no fly" zone).
I will post Charlie's interaction in the mess hall, and getting onto the plane, but yeah, we need Brom to post.
I also need the special equipment list, oh DM, as I was deliberately vague in my packing
Posted on 2007-09-11 at 12:02:45.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Departures and goodbyes, part II
To Willow, even Rocinante had a pulse, and when it began to quicken, she knew the Captain was preparing to leave. It was time to shake off the dust of Lullabelle Mine and head out into the black.
Willow bustled out to the hold where the Fultons were finishing with their loading tasks. She eyed the two slope shouldered men icily and commanded,” You there, follow me. “
With the imperial indifference of one who’d grown up with servants, she returned to the medical bay without looking back and disconnected Ryan from the monitors and IV’s around him. When the Fulton men arrived, she gestured for them to take up the litter, and silently, the three of them returned Jim to his quarters.
Willow got the injured man settled, dismissing the Fultons with another nonchalant command, and reviewed Jim’s post-op care with Kora and the concerned Sam. Jim had started to rouse again from his slumber, and Willow bent over him to stroke his face as he woke up.
“Goodbye, love, and get better soon for me, hmm? When I return, we’ll have to finish that conversation we never did get to start,” and with a wicked smile, she kissed him for all she was worth. She felt him shiver underneath the blankets and she warmed inside for the first time since heading for the basement.
Turning back to Sam and Kora, she smiled and tilted her head. “A little bit of business before we lift? We’ve got some sweet things to counter some of the bitterness today has brought…” and she began to discuss trading some chocolate and rum for some of the fresh vegetables Sam could spare (or anything else of value.) (OOC: DM’s discretion on how we do, not trying to drive Sam down at all!)
Moving forward to dinner time
“All right, we ain’t provisioned for another mouth t’ feed, nor is the systems in place t’ deal with… that, “ the captain began. “Hair all over the place n’ such. What’s more is it appears t’ be someone’s pet gone astray, what with that fancy pretty about its neck. An’ judgin’ by the bauble there, I’d assume it was someone who took a position o’ like t’ the creature. So, we’ll put a lost n’ found poster up on the Feed as soon as we can… maybe it’ll fetch us a bit of a reward.”
Willow really looked at the kitten at the mention of the bauble, and her gaze sharpened when she noted the quality of the gemstones. She pondered the implications of a open posting in the Feed and didn’t like what it could mean for them. She’d no reason to hide or go unnoticed, but she hadn’t missed Sam’s habit of slinking to the back of a crowd when official types were around, and the captain had a less than easy way with officials, too.
“Captain, perhaps a discreet inquiry or two would be better for all concerned? That kitten comes from money, and money means Alliance power on Bellerophon, which is where I’m guessing we picked up our fuzzy castaway. An intermediary or two between us and kitty’s owner may be the way to go. Dodger should be feeling kindly towards me these days, let me send him a wave.”
Posted on 2007-09-08 at 13:13:43.
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Topic: A Cold Day in Hell Q&A
Subject: V A C A T I O N...in the summer time
I too will be heading out of town, but won't be back until Tuesday night. Will catch up on things Wednesday and Thurs.
Posted on 2007-08-24 at 22:31:07.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Departures and goodbyes
Willow sat in the infirmary beside Jim, elbow propped on the side of the bed, head cradled in her hand as she watched her patient slumber. She was tired, bone tired, and unsettled by all that had happened. She’d gone out to the cargo bay in search of the captain, to tend his injuries, only to learn of Kora’s departure. Willow had been completely pleased for her, enfolding the taller woman in a joyful hug and wishing her well. Kora had tried to thank the doctor for her help, and tried to explain again why she had to stay, but Willow had touched a finger to Kora’s lips, turning the touch into a soft caress. Don’t be silly, she’d told Kora, you found someone who can love you, and who you may love in return. He’ll heal places in you I can never reach. Be happy, dear, be happy.
Willow’d been walking away, sorting out her feelings about Kora leaving when Dash’d leaned over the railing, ranting at the world for all that had been done to him. His words were angry, but Willow could hear the hurt in them, and she ached for him. She wanted to go to him, to comfort him, but there were barriers she knew she couldn’t cross…and chasms she couldn’t bridge.
“Hey there Doc.”
Willow looks down at her patient, snapping back to the present and slipping her warm smile back into place, “How you feeling Jim?”
The prospector laughs and coughs, “Couldn’t be better. Knew I’d find a way to be alone with you. I even got you to take off my clothes.” He smiles and then nods off again.
Willow smiles wistfully and stands to lean over the sleeping man. She kisses his forehead to check for fever and ruffles his hair with genuine affection. “Why is it that you have to drug a man for him to express his feelings?” she asks no one in particular. Jim, for his part, does not reply.
Posted on 2007-08-24 at 22:29:35.
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Topic: The Guiding Light
Subject: I smell a quest coming on...or maybe just a storm...
En’Aranthea listened to the old sailor’s stories and smiled at his little jokes and quips…indeed it was easy enough to do, once she got the hang of his manner of speech. It ebbed and flowed like the sea itself, and she was able to find the music in it at last. Although she paid no less attention to the man before her, other conversations around them suddenly seemed more clear, making more sense than they had earlier.
When she determined that Jenris had nothing more to add, she thanked him for his time and company, earning another bluff laugh in return. Making her way back to her companions table with Varuna, she took an empty seat and sipped of her mead. It was soft on the tongue, and sweeter than she was used to, but better than she’s expected. She had a few bites of her meal to satisfy the rumblings of her stomach and found the food to be pleasant as well.
“The Sylvari we came to meet has not arrived yet, something is delaying or holding off much of the ship traffic here,” she told the others, continuing to take small, tidy bites between sentences. “There’s no definite reason for the delay, but a local lighthouse has been dark for a few days now, and the ships would normally use it to guide their way into port. Since we have no other task but to wait for the ship, I suggest that we head out to this lighthouse on the morn and see what is causing it to be dark. T’is better than being idle here. What say you all?” she ended politely. She was conscious that everyone had agreed to travel with her, but nothing more than their will bound them to her path.
Posted on 2007-08-24 at 22:08:53.
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Topic: A Cold Day in Hell
Subject: Packing
It had begun so well, Charlie had thought. The Colonel had lived up to his reputation as a smart leader by focusing on the misson, failing to rise to the bait of Charlie’s outfit. When he answered her questions about the mission and dismissed the group, Charlie responded with a crisp “Sir. Thank you, Sir!” and nodded, eyes sparkling with good humour.
She’d turned smartly and filed out with the others, and since two of the other members of the team had questions of the Lieutenant, Charlie lingered to hear the answers and perhaps speak with the others. That’s when the boorish lout of a sergeant assigned to the team decided that his injured sense of propriety was more important than the chain of command and good manners, unleashing a torrent of vitriol at Charlie that she hadn’t experienced since the first time she’d disappeared on her handlers, some six years ago.
“Blake your rank says you’re a Chief Warrant and normally I could respect that but you strike me as one piss poor officer. Now I know you “Out rank” me….”
She was too used to this sort of soldier, unfortunately, and so she just stared him down as he went all red in the face and ranted. Her pale face was expressionless behind the mask of makeup, but her ice chip eyes could have cut diamonds. She didn’t bother to respond immediately, due to the lieutenant’s presence, and since the sergeant asked the lieutenant to add his own words, Charlie simply turned on her heel to face her new team leader full in the face.
"Chief, Sgt. Kane's right about one thing at least: you're a far cry from regulation, and that usually spells trouble for the team. You buck the System in the Cool, what're you going to do in the Heat? Savvy? …. I'm gonna amend the Sergeant's 'orders' and state this much: when you get your gear together you'll meet me in the mess hall proper. I'll expect you no later than 0800 hours." Monty paused just a moment to read her expression before stating, "Dismissed."
“Permisson to speak, sir?” Charlie asked, her voice neutral. (Presuming the Lt gives it). “I’m more regulation than you may give me credit for, sir, but I hope you’ll learn that in time. If you don’t have my dossier waiting for you in your quarters, I’ll arrange for you to have it, hard or soft copy, and you’ll be able to see that in the heat, I’m in Hell’s Kitchen, cooking with gas and getting the job done. I’m good at what I do, and the Rangers recruited me, not the other way around,” she stated without boasting, just quietly confident. “The rest is just window dressing, designed to separate the thinking men from the trained apes that sadly permeate the armed services. It will be a pleasure to serve with you, sir. 0800, in the mess hall, sir.”
She gave another clipped nod, executed a drill turn on her heel again, and her back as ramrod straight as it had been since hearing of the mission.
Outside, she moved quickly to her quarters, which simply meant lengthening the stride of her long legs. As she did so, she sighed and shook her head a look of sad disappointment crossing her face as she thought of Kane. “Damn, damn, damnety damn…here I thought recruitment was getting better…blind obedience is one thing for the grunts, but how can you make strategic leaders out of ‘em after you drill the thinking out of ‘em? Stupid monkeys.”
Once in her room, however, she pushed the matter aside, instead pulling her gear together in next to no time. She’d moved so often after becoming a ward of the state that she was always half packed, and ruthless about not accumulating anything she didn’t need, beyond a few choice items of clothes and arcane computer equipment that puzzled even most techs. The sole decoration in the spartan room were two plastic figures, Victor Van Dort and the Corpse Bride, from an old animated movie Charlie adored. She patted them both on their oversized, pallid faced heads as she moved to the computer desk occupying most of the space.
She minimized the screen on one computer, letting the search program run in the background, and initiated a couple of bots she used whenever she had a new assignment. One opened her email program and proceeded to write and send emails out to various online friends, explaining that she wouldn’t be around for a while. Those acquaintances who thought she was a computer consultant were told of a conference in Berlin, those who thought her an archeology student got a breathless note about a new dig in Belize…and so on. Another launched an instant message app, and IM’d her gamer buddies that she was too busy in school, and wouldn’t be posting or joining any tournaments for a while. Charlie had many friends she’d never met in the real world, and none of them had any idea who she really was. The last bot would run on her mail server, sorting incoming mail, deleting the crap, and archiving the rest, getting the messages off the network and onto her hard drive.
Her computer case took the longest to pack, since she didn’t know what she would face, and couldn’t bring everything, but eventually she whittled it down to essentials and multi-purpose tools, knowing she could always improvise on the rest.
Last was her gun, kept in a locked storage locker at the foot of her bed. She disassembled it, examined it thoroughly and reassembled it, checking the sighting once she’d finished. She didn’t like having a gun, but lacking superpowers, she’d made peace with the weapon, and it had served her well enough so far.
At precisely 07:50, she was standing in the mess hall, gear neatly laid out before her in a neat row. She’d changed from the Docs and mini skirt into combat boots and camo pants, and if they seemed a little bulky for her lanky frame, only she knew they were lined on the inside with comforting scraps of old t-shirts she’d outgrown. The makeup remained, but her hair was tucked under a BDF cap….at a distance, she almost looked regulation. Almost.
OOC: wanted to post Charlie's reaction...will post about the plane ride later....
Posted on 2007-08-24 at 01:39:15.
Edited on 2007-08-24 at 01:40:57 by Vanadia
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Topic: A Cold Day in Hell Q&A
Subject: T'was a test
No need to apologize, just live with the consequences...Charlie, like any punk or goth, dresses to provoke a reaction...if you don't want to be noticed and commented on, you blend.
But to clarify on previous comments...A CWO is considered a NCO? So no sir or ma'am....just Chief? I know to call the LT sir...and haven't decided yet what I'm calling the Sarge lol
Posted on 2007-08-23 at 11:40:21.
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Topic: The Guiding Light Q&A
Subject: Cool...thanks for translating
Just so as I'm not being dense...the lighthouse would be the "guiding light", eh? Didn't want to be looking for tangents, but this seems pretty pointed a clue
Posted on 2007-08-20 at 22:35:46.
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Topic: A Cold Day in Hell Q&A
Subject: Specialized non combat gear? Nummies!
Will you advise us here of that equipement, or via PM? I'm thinking that computers may not have advanced that much in 8 years, other than being faster and powerful with improvements in data storage capacities, but no real AI or other "sci fi" stuff.
Charlie would want to bring her own laptop/portable PC/tablet as it likely has programs only she knows about...stuff that breaks things designed to keep her out  , that sort of thing.
Posted on 2007-08-20 at 21:38:36.
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Topic: A Cold Day in Hell
Subject: She speaks
Charlie had tried to wear her uniform, really she did. It was just so…so drab and so green and all and looked like everyone else’s uniform that she felt her soul shrinking as soon as she put it on. She knew she’d lose herself if she wore it for any length of time and so most of it lay crumpled in the bottom of her locker.
The camo jacket had shown some potential, once she tailored it to fit her better. She’d removed the collar so that her dog collar’s spikes wouldn’t catch on it, and fixed the ragged edges with duct tape, darkening the tape with black permanent marker. She bleached the back panel so that the camouflage pattern was just a mottled memory, then used the same marker to draw two folded angel’s wings onto the back, adding blood spatters to the bottom edges of the feathers with a red marker. Satisfied that she’d come as close to replicating her back tat as well as she could without actually using needles, she’d turned her attention to the sleeves. They were too long and confining, so she cut them off, shortened them, then re-attached them at the shoulders Frankenstein-like with black twine stitches, reinforced with more duct tape. Knowing it was government property, just like she was, she left the insignia alone, as well as her name badge: C. BLAKE.
With the uniform jacket worn over a black T-shirt (Betty Boop as a biker babe on a Harley) with her favourite black & pink tartan mini and Doc Martens, Charlie was about as regulation as she was going to get without sedation. “You never get a second chance to make a first impression,” she told herself as she smudged black liner around her eyes, then used the same pencil liner on her lips. “Chief Warrant Officer Charlie Blake, reporting for duty, sir!” she saluted the mirror smartly, before spoiling the moment by giggling. “Get along, girlfriend, no point in being late.”
Charlie hustled over to her new appointment, those “first day of school” butterflies running amok in her stomach. Getting a new assignment had that magical moment, it was like peeling the cellophane off a new game and slipping the disc into the drive for the first time. What would she learn from this one? Would her skills be a match for what lay before her? Would she pin this monster to the ground as she had so many others before, or would this one be her defeat? “Stay tuned for more, bat fans,” she muttered as she passed a few startled cadets before making her way to the right office.
Shown to a waiting area, she slouched against a wall and wished for a Red Bull or Caf-Pow to pick her up. She’d find out who the others were soon enough, then hack into the personnel records tonight and find out all the dry little details the military deemed worthy of noting. The tall drink of water to her left was Looey, and Charlie was pretty sure she could cut herself on the creases in his uniform. He’d noted every bit of her attire, but said nothing…earning a point in his favour.
When they finally entered the Colonel’s office and he began to outline the mission, Charlie became all business. Every muscle went taut as she listened intently, gleaning every last bit of info from what the Colonel said, and didn’t say. With her hands moving restlessly, as if keying the information onto a keyboard, and her pale eyes scouring the images displayed on the monitor, Charlie looked like a bloodhound straining at the leash, waiting for the command to track. When the colonel finally asked if there were questions, Charlie didn’t know quite where to start, rolling her eyes in an unmistakable “of course I have questions” way. One commanding officer, nearly driven mad by her insatiable curiosity, had finally ordered her to ask no more than ten questions a day, and that had been unbearable. She took a deep breath, sorted her questions in order of importance and opened her mouth.
"Actually Sir, I do have some questions,” the Looey beside her started and Charlie quickly closed her mouth, teeth coming together with an audible click. She listened to the questions and nodded grudgingly. They weren’t her first, burning questions, but they were high on the list, and she’d have that many more of her own to ask, now, before trying the Colonel’s patience.
She listened to the Colonel’s answers, filling and categorizing the answers, knowing they’d only spur more questions. When he finished speaking, Charlie paused to be sure the Colonel had truly finished, then raised her hand.
“Mr. Colonel, sir. What about this Project Twilight Seed? Anything to do with quantum physics and “great deal of isolation” sounds like the accident that proceeded the Big Bang, if you know what I mean. Could the project itself be why the base has gone silent? Should we be wearing radiation protection gear? Umm..next, how many people are based there, so we know when we’ve found them all? How many military, how many civilian? What sort of protection did the computers have, and will we get the codes so I can bypass it? Moving data is easier than moving equipment, after all. Oh, and…”
Charlie stopped, realizing the Colonel’s eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline; not an easy feat with a military buzz cut. She gulped and reined in her tongue, finishing with, “ that’ll do for now. “
Posted on 2007-08-19 at 02:28:47.
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Topic: yet another movie thread...
Subject: Stardust
Jut got back from seeing Stardust and I have to say, the critics were right: this is the new Princess Bride. Magical, whimsical, stirring, funny and visually beautiful.
I won't spoil anything with the plot here, but I have to say that Robert DeNiro is one brave fellow
Posted on 2007-08-19 at 02:07:27.
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Topic: The Guiding Light
Subject: Digging deeper
En’Aranthea followed the barkeep’s gaze to glance over her shoulder at the sailor indicated, then thanked the barkeep for his time and the meal to come. She started to turn away, then realized she was so focused one task that she was overlooking others.
‘Good sir,” She turned back to the barkeep,” do you offer lodgings, or know of a place in town that does? We’ll need rooms for the night, and stabling for our horses.”
(OOC: can back post this discussion…)
The matter of lodgings settled for the moment, En”aranthea thanked the barkeep again in her careful way then made her way back to her companions at the table. She smiled to see them all relaxing over a tankard or mug, but didn’t immediately sit down.
“Our contact has not yet arrived, and indeed, there has been little sea traffic of late, which is unusual, as our host tells it. I’d like to speak to someone who may know more about why. Varuna, would you do me the courtesy of joining me? You are more comfortable with, ah, humans, and your Common is certainly better than mine. You will likely understand more than I will.”
(OOC: assuming Varuna agrees, otherwise can repost next part)
En’Aranthea walked over to the table indicated by the barkeep earlier, and smiled as warmly as she could at the sailor with the long beard. She indicated the empty chairs around the table and asked,” May we join you, sir? Perhaps refill your cup? Our host tells me that ships have been rare of late, and that perhaps you have some ideas on why that may be. We are hoping to meet an acquaintance here, hence our interest in the matter.”
Posted on 2007-08-18 at 20:47:29.
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Topic: A Cold Day in Hell Q&A
Subject: Weapons choice
The carbine (M6) and the 9mm pistol for Charlie, please....calling her ma'am should be fun...i think she's the kid of the group
Posted on 2007-08-18 at 02:04:02.
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Topic: Goofy Burf-day stuff
Subject: hehe...
I've been called a b*tch before, but I guess it's offical, now.
According to the Chinese Zodiac (year of birth) I'm a Horse, so I guess what I really am is confused
Posted on 2007-08-16 at 22:04:07.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Holding her breath
Marie looked from one man to another, such a study in contrast that a bard could not have described them better. As if the thought itself summoned him, Damien’s voice wove through the crowd, preceding the dark clad man who sang.
Marie held her breath in surprise, unwilling to do anything to tip the scales of fate against them. Here was Damien, acting with deliberation and purpose, and her eyes fairly glowed with approval. Daring to not even look at her companion, she instead watched the man with the hostage.
Damien’s song appeared to have the desired effect: the man looked confused, besotted, almost, and his grip loosened on the woman, who scuttled away with alacrity. Marie stood her ground, but with the man still holding the knife, albeit loosely, she didn’t want to seem threatening while Damien worked his magic.
"You," the other man said, oblivious to Damien’s efforts, if not his results, “have nowhere left to run. Drop your blade and submit to justice now, or I shall have no choice but to end your life just as you ended the lives of however man innocents. I offer you now one last chance, drop your blade and come with me."
Marie groaned inwardly and flashed the man a look, but Damien’s concentration never wavered. The bard smiled as they were merely old friends chatting over their cups and urged the man gently to set his weapon aside. Still Marie stood by, ready to react, but unwilling to make any gesture that would push the man back into aggression. With predators, staring was an act of defiance, so she shifted her gaze to not avoid the man’s eyes, instead watching his body language.
Posted on 2007-08-16 at 21:59:21.
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Topic: The Guiding Light Q&A
Subject: Swamped with real life and pregnancy sleepiness
Will post to GL tonight
Posted on 2007-08-16 at 16:54:54.
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Topic: An alternate sci-fi game?
Subject: I am not leadership material :)
Particularly in a military setting...so I'm not at all offended that you wouldn't give Charlie real rank
Posted on 2007-08-16 at 16:54:13.
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Topic: An alternate sci-fi game?
Subject: Character submitted
Check your private message box, oh webmaster
Posted on 2007-08-16 at 03:19:03.
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Topic: An alternate sci-fi game?
Subject: You may be onto something
The deepset eyes, "strong" nose and facial hair...I'd suggest DNA testing....
Posted on 2007-08-15 at 20:09:03.
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