Hmwiki - Recent changes [en]

Logs:The Room Plot - To Solve - Perchance To Dream... Travel

Sieghilde — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 14:57:33 GMT

removing the broken & redundant category tag.

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	paintbrush in her hand, looking at the painting she was working on, before all		paintbrush in her hand, looking at the painting she was working on, before all
	this started.		this started.
-
-	~~[[Category:RP logs]]~~
	}}		}}

Alaric/Rumors

Nevaeh — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 13:37:02 GMT

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	This section is an add what you want section. I don't care if its true, goofy or just plain for fun. Add stuff!		This section is an add what you want section. I don't care if its true, goofy or just plain for fun. Add stuff!
		+
		+	''"He is quite possibly the best pillow I ever known. Don't let the muscles fool you, he's a marshmallow."'' - [[Nevaeh]]

Tyrone/Contacts

Tyrone — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 11:24:00 GMT

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	* [[Liane\|Questing Beast]] - To build anew and resist that urge to hunt.		* [[Liane\|Questing Beast]] - To build anew and resist that urge to hunt.
	* [[Katja]] - An interesting little pet.		* [[Katja]] - An interesting little pet.
		+	* [[Verena]] - Food is food, says you.
		+	* [[Sofiya]] - Shown a new way to hunt.

Phineas/People

Lawfuldeviant — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 09:52:38 GMT

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	! style="background-color: #000000; color: white; border: 1px solid white" colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Kreuz\|The Weasle]]</center>		! style="background-color: #000000; color: white; border: 1px solid white" colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Kreuz\|The Weasle]]</center>
-	! style="background-color: #000000; color: white; border: 1px solid white" colspan="2" \| <Center>[[~~Adele~~\|~~Memory of Fire~~]]</center>	+	! style="background-color: #000000; color: white; border: 1px solid white" colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Kenneth_Huber\|Human]]</center>
-	! style="background-color: #000000; color: white; border: 1px solid white" colspan="2" \| <Center>[[~~Gabe~~\|~~Fetch~~]]</center>	+	! style="background-color: #000000; color: white; border: 1px solid white" colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Abel_Schrutz\|Stone]]</center>

	\|-		\|-

-	\| style="background-color: #000000"\|[[Image:Kreuz-weezl.jpg\|75px\|Beast, sniffles]]	+	\| style="background-color: #000000"\|[[Image:Kreuz-weezl.jpg\|75px\|Beast, sniffles...]]
	\| style="background-color:#000000; color: white" width="250" \| '''''Coraller'''<br> "You keep coming when he calls...you pull me away back to home. Lets explore once."''		\| style="background-color:#000000; color: white" width="250" \| '''''Coraller'''<br> "You keep coming when he calls...you pull me away back to home. Lets explore once."''
-	\| style="background-color: #000000"\|[[Image:~~Josie1~~.jpg\|75px\|~~Burned Memory~~.]]	+	\| style="background-color: #000000"\|[[Image:Kenneth.jpg\|75px\|One day I'll squeeze the life into you.]]
-	\| style="background-color:#000000; color: white" width="250" \| '''''~~Phoenix~~'''<br> "~~A distant memory~~...~~or many a dream from another life. A phoenix rising from the ashes~~."''	+	\| style="background-color:#000000; color: white" width="250" \| '''''Geists Human'''<br> "Scared of snakes...thanks. V_V"''
-	\| style="background-color: #000000"\|[[Image:~~Gabe19~~.jpg\|75px\|~~growls~~]]	+	\| style="background-color: #000000"\|[[Image:Abel_Mien_Face.jpg\|75px\|Woah...friends first?]]
-	\| style="background-color:#000000; color: white" width="250" \| '''''~~Fetch~~'''<br> "~~Just you wait, my precious~~..."''	+	\| style="background-color:#000000; color: white" width="250" \| '''''Big'''<br> "I'll help where I can..."''

	\|-		\|-
	\|}		\|}

Alaric/Gallery

Lawfuldeviant — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 09:44:09 GMT

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	<center>		<center>
-	<gallery perrow="5" widths="100px" heights="100px">	+	<gallery perrow="6" widths="100px" heights="100px">
	Image:Alaric02.jpg		Image:Alaric02.jpg
	Image:Alaric03.jpg		Image:Alaric03.jpg
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	Image:Alaric05.jpg		Image:Alaric05.jpg
	Image:Alaric06.jpg		Image:Alaric06.jpg
		+	Image:Alaric07.jpg
	</gallery>		</gallery>
	<gallery perrow="5" widths="100px" heights="100px">		<gallery perrow="5" widths="100px" heights="100px">

File:Alaric07.jpg

Lawfuldeviant — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 09:40:42 GMT

uploaded "[[File:Alaric07.jpg]]"

Liane/Sign

Sieghilde — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 07:57:52 GMT

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	:[[Konrad]]: Dog.		:[[Konrad]]: Dog.
	:[[Kreuz]]: Weasel.		:[[Kreuz]]: Weasel.
-	:[[~~Liane~~]]: Wolf-Star.	+	:[[Liam]]: Flower.
		+	:Liane: Wolf-Star.
	:[[Leka]]: Moon-Princess, Moon-Girl.		:[[Leka]]: Moon-Princess, Moon-Girl.
-	:[[Joa]]: ~~Clock~~.	+	:[[Joa]]: Clocks.
	:[[Raven]]: still Raven!		:[[Raven]]: still Raven!
	:[[Rhys]]: [http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=560 Ditch-Dead].		:[[Rhys]]: [http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=560 Ditch-Dead].
	:[[Toren]]: Bull.		:[[Toren]]: Bull.
-	:[[Vera]]: ~~Stone-And-Gold,~~ Gold.	+	:[[Vera]]: Gold.
	:[[Wendy]]: Red Smith.		:[[Wendy]]: Red Smith.
	:[[Zephirine]]: Rose.		:[[Zephirine]]: Rose.

Liane/Contacts

Sieghilde — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 07:31:17 GMT

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	\| width="250" \| ''Alpha[http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=528 .]''		\| width="250" \| ''Alpha[http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=528 .]''
	\| [[File:Gennshadow5.jpg\|link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8OOWcsFj0U\|I know you've suffered but I don't want you to hide\|75px]]		\| [[File:Gennshadow5.jpg\|link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8OOWcsFj0U\|I know you've suffered but I don't want you to hide\|75px]]
-	\| width="250" \| ''Prey is the best friend ~~Lives~~-~~Outside~~ has.''	+	\| width="250" \| ''Prey is the best friend Wolf-Star has.''
	\|-		\|-
	! colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Leka]]</center>		! colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Leka]]</center>
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	\| width="250" \| ''"But I think we do be-llllong to-geth-rrrr. Moon and stars. And even if we werrren't made to go togetherrr, we do now."''		\| width="250" \| ''"But I think we do be-llllong to-geth-rrrr. Moon and stars. And even if we werrren't made to go togetherrr, we do now."''
	\| [[File:Baron79.jpg\|link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZweDwbJ_Ic\|Sometimes, broken edges match.\|75px]]		\| [[File:Baron79.jpg\|link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZweDwbJ_Ic\|Sometimes, broken edges match.\|75px]]
-	\| width="250" \| ''~~[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqds0B_meys I saw. I was]. I am still here~~.''	+	\| width="250" \| ''It would be like trying to explain the sun.''
	\|-		\|-
	! colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Vera]]</center>		! colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Vera]]</center>
-	! colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Liam~~\|Liam/Silas~~]]</center>	+	! colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Liam]]</center>
	\|-		\|-
	\| [[File:Vera8.jpg\|link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3YmaADISlo\|75px]]		\| [[File:Vera8.jpg\|link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3YmaADISlo\|75px]]
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	\|-		\|-
	\| [[File:Khoo.jpg\|75px]]		\| [[File:Khoo.jpg\|75px]]
-	\| width="250" \| ''~~Don~~'t ~~need 'sorry~~.~~' Don~~'t ~~want~~ '~~sorry~~.~~' Don~~'t want to ~~sit around being sad. Want help~~.''	+	\| width="250" \| ''I think you're going away and I can't do anything about it. I don't believe it's Fate. I just don't think you want to stop.''
	\| [[File:AlfonsMien.jpg\|75px]]		\| [[File:AlfonsMien.jpg\|75px]]
	\| width="250" \| ''threat display''		\| width="250" \| ''threat display''

Logs:Remi and the Muscle Girls

Liam — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 05:07:36 GMT

Created page with '{{Log | cast= * Carli Feher * Johanna Eggers * Remi Loerh | setting=Remi walks in on two old friends having a conversation with each other. He brings al...'

New page

{{Log

| cast=

* [[Carli|Carli Feher]]
* [[Johanna Eggers]]
* [[Remi|Remi Loerh]]

| setting=Remi walks in on two old friends having a conversation with each other. He brings along a thank you gift for Carli, and gets to know Johanna a little.

| log=[Missing the beginning of the log. Will add when available.]

"Pft, of course I'll give you one," Carli grins. "No skin off my back. And feel free to use the place if you want to train people on the side for a bit of cash, just toss me the odd three percent here and there, and reccommendations, by way of rent." She laughs suddenly, adding, "Baron. Yeah, I broke his jaw once. Sort of by accident." Showing off. She still feels bad about it, if the sheepish cast to her grin is any indication. "I'm sure the shelter would be glad to have you back." She and Johanna are standing pretty much in the middle of the room, two powerful hot chicks outshining the poor, over-awed fellahs there to train.

A wave of Johanna's hand answers the suggestion. "I don't really know anything, yeah? I can hit someone with my fists, avoid getting hit some, but I don't know a lot about formal shit. Might pick some up though, now that I'm back." The admission re: jaw-breaking has her laughing all over again, a boom of chuckles that care not a whit for who's around. "He seems the sort to fall in love with someone breaking his jaw, beautiful."

Remi nudges the door to the gym open and scratches the back of his head. He's in his usual jeans and t-shirt, and that leather jacket that's worn down to faded. He has a bag in one hand. Presumably there is something in it! When he spots Carli, he heads over that-a-way, quietly.

"I can teach you some," Carli offers. A very generous offer, indeed, if only Johanna realized the half of it. "Boxing, anyway. I'm no good with other disciplines." She, too, laughs about Baron, adding, "Oh, he's the sort to fall in love with someone every other day. He's amusing, though. If a bit strange." She catches sight of Remi on his way over, and waves briefly, before continuing to the other woman, "What is it with men and powerful women? They either fall all over you, run away from you, or stand around hating on you for being tougher than they are."

"I'd like that," Johanna agrees cheerfully, entirely unaware of how generous it is indeed. "Better a friend smash me into a pulp until I learn how to fight back, yeah? At least that way we'll both laugh about it after." She glances to Remi on his way over, but doesn't really linger there, just a distracted up-nod of acknowledgement before attention turns back again to her companion. "Fuck, that's why I like guys big enough to toss me around, and girls small enough that I can toss around. Best of both worlds, yeah? There's your next article though, something about how being strong relates to the world 'round you. Interview all the muscle-heads here."

"Huh?" Remi looks at Carli. "I don't do any of those things." Exception that proves the rule? He then offers her the bag. "Lyre picked it out. I just carried it around. It's a thank you for helping me out the other day."

Remi gives Johanna a brief nod back in greeting. No verbal hello, though. Maybe he's shy.

Carli accepts the bag with a slightly quizzical look, then grins. "I like presents." She doesn't look in immediately, instead waving vaguely between the two, "this is my friend Anna. We go way back. Anna, this is Remi, relative newcomer, but a nice enough fellow once you get past the fact that he's got balls." Her grin is clearly meant to take any sting out of the tease. "And you know, that's a very good idea for an article." She looks at the muscle heads currently in the gym. "They're all a bit wary of me." GEE. I wonder WHY.

A hand is thrust out at Remi, along with a grin. "Pleasure," Johanna offers, merry as it gets. "We'll try not to hold the balls thing against you, yeah? Of course it's a good idea, beautiful. I'm a fucking font of good ideas, ask anyone," she adds sidelong to Carli. "Tell'm you'll beat them up if they don't talk?"

Remi shakes Johanna's hand quietly, and then says, "I can't help the balls. Defining trait." He glances around at the meatheads in the gym, and then shrugs. "Are you sure they won't lie to sound cooler?" Inside the bag is an aquagreen blouse in an argyle design. It's not brand, and probably cheap. But knowing Remi, he probably doesn't have any money to buy anything more expensive, and is also one of those people who take 'it's the thought that counts' entirely to heart.

This is /Carli/ we're talking about. Fashion sense? Wut? She tugs the blouse out, holds it up, exclaims with pleasure over the color. It's a good one for her pale skin and reddish hair, after all. "This will go very nicely with my court-reporter suit," she tells Remi, then folds it carefully up to restow it in the bag. Grinning over at Johanna, she returns to the previous thread of conversation. "Boxing is all about control, anyway. So you should survive long enough to get a few hits in."

Her shake in return is a solid pump, down-up, then release. "They might, but that could go in the article too." Johanna doesn't try to squeeze his hand into pulp to show off, either. Fists settle on her hips again. "You lemme know when you have time to start, beautiful. You're the one with a real schedule, yeah? Me, I'm just couch-surfing at a friend's place until I get my parents' house in shape, find some work again, shit like that."

"Lyre says I should get Martin something, too. Any ideas?" Remi looks at Carli with a small grimace-slash-wince. He doesn't know the Hat-Dude as well as he knows Carli. It's not saying much, but at least with Carli he feels comfortable buying her thank you gifts.

"Food," Carli replies decisively to Remi. "He likes sushi." She makes a face, then angles her head to look at Johanna. "I'm usually free most afternoons. Early mornings are the busy times, here, since that's when the guys with jobs usually get their workouts in. Come by, give me a call, whenever." She stretches, an almost feline sort of movement, and glances over at the bags. "Some of the older guys, if they see you're serious, might offer advice for free if they see you working out or lifting weights. Most of them know better than to make fun of a chick in here." Her grin is suddenly wicked. And toothy.

"You've done all the work for me!" Johanna leans in some to bump shoulders with the other woman. "Afternoons, you gottit. How am I supposed to give you a call, with your cellphone broke?" That last is accompanied by a wry twist to her grin. "What's been going on otherwise? Half the time I feel like I came back to the same place exactly, no time passed, other times I wonder what the fuck is going on."

"At least some times you feel at home?" Remi says to Johanna with a brief shrug. It's meant to be reassuring. Remi himself hasn't been 'at home' anywhere for years, though Vienna is starting to feel like it, more due to the people than the place.

"I think in some ways, no time /has/ passed," Carli comments, sounding both amused and introsepctive. "The guertels are still full of gangs, the police still chase bad people, life goes on. Men still unload the docks, young people still attend the University. New people drift in, but then they drift out again and you never see them again, so it's as if they never were really here, you know?" She pauses, then adds, "I hear Flannigan's was up for sale. Dunno if anyone bought it. Nobody I know hangs out in the pool hall any more, though."

Laughter spills out again, amusement pointed square at herself. "I was down in the Corner Pocket the other night, yeah? Played pool with this skinny thing with a temper, so she wouldn't start a fucking brawl." Johanna's grin flashes over to Remi at his assurance. "At least some times, handsome, that'll have to be good enough."

Sounds like Lyre, though it's probably not. "It gets better?" Remi deadpans at Johanna, like he doesn't really believe it, either. "I like pool."

"It's a great place to get into a bar fight," Carli offers almost dreamily, then she grins at Johanna. "I believe that is where I have met most of my favorite people in Vienna. You and Grigor, most notably. Though, the last time I was in there, von Drache pissed me off so much I very nearly cleaned his clock. I don't think I've been back, since."

"Fuck him," Johanna asserts with a bit of boom to the statement. Then laughs again and admits, "He'd fucking wipe me across the floor, so I should prolly be a little more careful, yeah?" The idea of getting smashed down certainly doesn't seem to bother her much. "I'll drag you out there again, beautiful. Or out to Kju, so we can start some shit and have some fun. It's been fucking forever. You can even bring that pansy man of yours." She lifts hand from hip to point at Remi. "You can come too, handsome. Maybe hold Carli's beer if you don't want to get into the middle of things yourself."

At that, Remi glances at Carli, and then flashes a very brief, but sharp smile at Johanna. "I can do both."

Laughter bursts from the redhead, amused and delighted. "Oh, what a brawl that will be," Carli crows. "Oh, Remi here will probably wade right in," she tells Johanna, then adds, "fuck him, indeed. He said I was pendantic and boring. I had to go look that up, which always annoys me. I think he was just mad I -wouldn't- fuck him, you know? But if I catch him playing massage toy in here as I've heard he was doing before, I'll flatten him." She grins, bright and sharp as well, continuing, "I've never been in the Kju, I don't think. Oh, yes. We definitely must go start some shit."

"Great." And indeed, Johanna looks pleased as punch when Remi says he'll join in, then Carli confirms. "Massage toy, beautiful? What the fuck is that? Do I even want to know?" Up goes her hand in staying motion. "Y'know? No, I don't think I do. We'll just pick some asshole ganger and tell him what he does with his gun, start it off small and work our way up. Anyone pissing you off around here lately?" A wave indicates the streets outside the gym itself.

"Lyre always gets me in trouble," Remi says quietly. It's what happens when you have a hot girlfriend who flaunts it and then cusses out anyone who mentions it that isn't you. You end up fisticuffing. Remi doesn't seem to mind, despite his quiet assertion. "I had to beat up a gang banger in the lobby of my apartment building."

"It's been mostly quiet /here/," Carli remarks, quirking a smirk that seems to indicate that maybe it's her reputation that keeps things quiet in the immediate vicinity. "And hell, even the skins and the bloods have been quiet up at my neck of the woods, all things considered. Damned near fucking bucolic." She laughs, then adds, "though I am sure, if I looked closely enough, I could find fault with someone somewhere. Lots of people... smell funny, for instance."

She nods, a swift jerk of chin. "Fuckers need to take a bath," Johanna agrees without a bit of hesitation. "And how will they know if we don't tell them how bad they smell in fucking smell-o-vision terms?" She grins at Remi's commentary, amusement clear. "Did he stop showing up after that, or is he still coming back?"

"This oen guy bumped into your gift when I was walking over," Remi offers to Carli with a brief smirk. Johanna gets a snicker. "We can hit them until the smell runs away, scared?" He shakes his head. "His friends said they'd be back. He... wasn't... awake, when they dragged him away." Ow. "But they're Red Brothers, so... they may be back."

"Not known for their brains, no," Carli remarks about said Red Brothers. At least the skinheads have a few. Some of them. She turns to Johanna, takes on a prim expression, lifting both hands palms-out, and looking horrified. "We must wear gloves. So that we dont' break a nail, or get odors on our hands." Then she erupts into a snickerfit at the thought of either of them having enough of a fingernail TO break.

So Johanna holds out her hands, as if to examine the nails in question. Nope, still nine blunt fingers, dirt and the like under the edges, rough around the edges. "We could go to a salon first," she suggests sidelong to Carli. Her effort to keep her face straight while she says so is a marvel of an attempt. It's failing even so. "Maybe get some fuck-me red color put on, /then/ go smack some assholes around. Yeah, the Brothers will show up eventually, handsome. You'll have to knock them down a lot more'n once."

Remi nods a little, looking a little dejected at the news, but accepting. "I figured. I could hope, though. I just... can't be there all the time. Lyre can take care of herself, but not like you two can," he explains. He includes Johanna even though he hasn't see her fight, because if Carli treats her like a badass, well then, she must be a badass. Once again, Remi shows his possession of that reclusive concept known as 'common sense'.

"Just make sure she carries an equalizer," Carli tells Remi, then snerks a bit at Johanna. "And matching lipstick. Can't forget the matching lipstick. Just adds the insult to injury." Her eyes glow with a sort of unholy glee. "Knock 'em out, then plant a big kiss on their forehead. Like a brand."

A clap lands on Carli's shoulder, thump. "Done," Johanna agrees. "Now we just gotta find a salon that'll put up with us cussing up a storm while they work us over." She nods to Remi's problem and agrees, "Easy enough to learn how to fire, even if you're great at it, yeah? And I know a guy who teaches self-defense outta his dojo, if you want to get her into classes like that." A pause, then she shrugs. "Or he did, fuck if I know if he still is, come to think of it."

"I can teach her to fight. I don't know if she'd pick up a gun." Remi tips his head a little, and then shrugs. "We'll see." He doesn't have anything against guns, himself. He just hasn't had reason to pick one up, yet. He just bites people!

"A gun is far better," Carli admonishes Remi, with more weight than one might suspect. "Shooting someone gives you time to run, which fighting does not. And she's not very big. Even knowing self-defense won't help her if there's more than one, but a gun will give her an advantage." She rolls her shoulder, waiting for that advice to be taken badly.

A hand lifts to thump against her bra-strap: there's a bit of bulge hidden beneath, only really obvious in the touch. "I like a knife personally, if I'm not gonna just use a fist," says the big German wall. "But a gun would make it easier to get the fuck away, yeah. And you can still smack an asshole with it, if they're too close to shoot easily." Johanna flashes a grin sidelong at Carli. "Listen to us, talking like we know shit."

"Hrn. Yeah." Remi nods. "She's an archer by trade, so she'd probably be at least a little more comfortable with a firearm than her fists." Remi's Common Sense: 2; Carli's Wariness: 0. "I'll talk to her about it."

"What are you talking about bitch, I do know shit!" Carli bumps her own shoulder against Johanna, laughing. "And we both talk it often enough, that should fucking count for something!" Her eyes sparkle with amusement, and she smiles at Remi's response as well. "Sounds like she actually has sense." There's an odd, subtle emphasis to the words that might not be lost on the man.

The blonde woman shakes her head, expression twisting rueful. "Way too much, we do." She crosses arms this time, tattoos flexing over muscle for the motion. "Archer by trade, yeah? How the fuck does someone live offa something like that these days?" There's no attempt to hide the curiosity on Johanna's part: she wonders, so she's asking.

"She does have sense," Remi says. "It just has some blind spots." For reals. Say the words 'Bone Shadow' or 'Circus' around her, watch her snap or freak out. Johanna gets a brief grimace: "Circus. Not any more, though," he adds, his tone suggesting that that's a /good/ thing. Most kids run away TO the circus. Lyre ran away FROM it.

"Yeah, we probably do," Carli agrees, a hint of echoing ruefulness in her expression. Then she grins again, adding, "Now, that'd be a helluva thing, wouldn't it? Teach her to snipe from the roof top with a bow and arrows." Stretching, the redhead suddenly angles her head, and half a second later, the phone in the office can be heard ringing. "Shit. Looks like I need to go play responsible business manager." A pause, then she sweeps Johanna up in a rib-creaking hug. "It's good to see you back. It'll be good to have you here. We'll kick ass."

The gesture is returned without a bit of hesitation, so that both of them are likely going to be feeling that hug for the rest of the afternoon. "I'll see you around, beautiful," Johanna assures before she pulls away. "Have fun being a grown-up!"

Remi watches Carli walk away, and then turns to Johanna, shrugging. "I get my grown-up time at the brewery. Do you know where I can find good sushi?"

She considers for a moment, eyes narrow. Finally Johanna asks, "Cheap, or quality?"

"...uhm, mid-range? I don't want my friend to gag on it, but... I don't have a lot of money." He frowns. He works at a brewery and lives in a neighborhood crawling with Red Brothers. That probably means he's a bottle-capper or something.

So Johanna nods and rattles off an address in the ID. "It's this place called Kim's, yeah? You need a reservation from months ahead to eat there, it's that fucking popular, but I'm pretty sure she does carry-out too." Ahh, natives. "

Remi rubs the back of his neck. Something about 'reservations months ahead' and 'not too expensive' doesn't compute, but he nods and gives Johanna a brief smile. The way he smiles suggests that, despite it being a relatively nice smile, he definitely doesn't do it often. Not in public, anyway. "Okay. I'll go there, then." So trusting, the young ones.

"Carry-out's not too bad," Johanna clarifies cheerfully. "Good luck." A hand is thrust out at him again. "Good to meet you, Remi. I'll see you 'round, I'm sure."

Remi nods and shakes her hand again. His grip isn't demonstrative or showy, either; it's just a handshake. Chances are, he prefers not to impress people with his handshakes, but with his... uh... fistshakes? Whatever. "Nice to meet you, Anna." He nods, and then takes off for the door, ready to spend some more of his hard-earned and very rare money.

For her part, Johanna turns to head towards the weights. Always more muscle to pack on, after all.
}}

[[Category: RP Logs]]

Sattriya

Sattriya — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 04:05:04 GMT

← Older revision		Revision as of 04:05, 6 September 2010
Line 86:		Line 86:
	*[[Logs:The Room - Astral Journey]]		*[[Logs:The Room - Astral Journey]]
	*[[Logs:The Room Plot - Conversation with Krista]]		*[[Logs:The Room Plot - Conversation with Krista]]
-		+	*[[Logs:The Room Plot - To Solve - Perchance To Dream... Travel]]
	__________________PrP Logs___________________		__________________PrP Logs___________________
	*[[Logs:Pile of Entrails - Haunted by the Past]]		*[[Logs:Pile of Entrails - Haunted by the Past]]

Logs:The Room Plot - To Solve - Perchance To Dream... Travel

Sattriya — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 04:03:44 GMT

Undo revision 89903 by Sieghilde (Talk)

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	but more was killed each time.		but more was killed each time.

-	\The table has a teapot (empty), and six sets of cups,	+	The table has a teapot (empty), and six sets of cups,
	saucers, and dessert plates. Plus napkins and what look like glass forks --		saucers, and dessert plates. Plus napkins and what look like glass forks --
	they're sufficiently crystalline that they're more visible by the fact they		they're sufficiently crystalline that they're more visible by the fact they
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	this started.		this started.

		+	[[Category:RP logs]]
	}}		}}

Fuel For Our Journey

Sieghilde — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 03:28:41 GMT

← Older revision		Revision as of 03:28, 6 September 2010
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	File:DuchyIcon.png \| <center>Duchess Brigit Allemann</center>		File:DuchyIcon.png \| <center>Duchess Brigit Allemann</center>
	File:Mortal.png \| <center>Behin Zahad</center>		File:Mortal.png \| <center>Behin Zahad</center>
		+	File:ChangelingSkull.png \| <center>Stefan Pichler's Fetch</center>
	</gallery></center>		</gallery></center>

Claude

Claude — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 02:28:51 GMT

People (And Un-people):

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	*[[Alaric]] Opium and Massage. The right man at the right time.		*[[Alaric]] Opium and Massage. The right man at the right time.
-
-	*[[Visigny]] Gratitude and Respect, emphasized by fear.

	*[[Artje]] A pompous fashionable bitch. An example of humanity replaced by clear glass.		*[[Artje]] A pompous fashionable bitch. An example of humanity replaced by clear glass.
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	*[[Jersey]] and [[Nevaeh]] Courteous and unreadable.		*[[Jersey]] and [[Nevaeh]] Courteous and unreadable.
		+
		+	*[[Visigny]] : Whatever the case after a solid six seconds of silence and stillness from Visigny the Spina draws in a deep breath and pushes himself to his feet. He turns away for a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose before turning back around, lifting both hands as though in an appeal towards heaven, though his focus is on Claude. It's evident the poor Daeva is vexed. He points at the man, still so beside himself he's yet to speak a word. He balls a fist next, squeezing it tight and ends up snarling a little. Finally he hisses, "You. Are not. Helping." ''ISN'T HE ADORABLE!?!??''

	==Logs==		==Logs==
	{{ rplogs \| name = Claude}}		{{ rplogs \| name = Claude}}

Silas/RP Hooks

Heliotrope — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 02:18:10 GMT

tired = incompetent

Vampire/Rumors

Tyrone — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 01:04:41 GMT

April, 2006:

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	'''Run Away''' Mmmm, regarding the talk about the Detective who ran away from Vienna, and his unfulfilled punishment for forcibly removing clan members from clan domain? I don't discuss clan matters to outsiders. I did hear someone say the other day that his cowardice reflects poorly on the Invictus. I'd like to emphasize, however, that I was not the one who said it. I finally am getting along with some of the Invictus once again, and am quite happy to continue doing exactly that. -- [[Kohl\|Keeper Abbey Kohl]], chatting with another ancilla in Elysium, April 25, 2006.		'''Run Away''' Mmmm, regarding the talk about the Detective who ran away from Vienna, and his unfulfilled punishment for forcibly removing clan members from clan domain? I don't discuss clan matters to outsiders. I did hear someone say the other day that his cowardice reflects poorly on the Invictus. I'd like to emphasize, however, that I was not the one who said it. I finally am getting along with some of the Invictus once again, and am quite happy to continue doing exactly that. -- [[Kohl\|Keeper Abbey Kohl]], chatting with another ancilla in Elysium, April 25, 2006.
	\|-		\|-
-	\|}	+	\|
-	\|}	+	'''Respect or Notoriety''' I heard this ghoul or thrall or whatever he is that the Lieutenant grabbed belonged to Flavian. I also heard this has happened before. He also caused that trouble in Flanagan's, so the rumor goes. I think anyone who has no respect for the Masquerade is asking a bit much to be recognized and respected within the city. I'll be changing my vote to a Nay. -- [[Tyrone]] in the Cygnet Theatre, April 28, 2006
		+	\|-
		+	\|
		+	'''Visigny for Sheriff''' You know, the Lieutenant should be praised for how quickly he took action. Ignore his youth, he is a good candidate for the vacancy left by Vinz. Perhaps he should be appointed until the elections are over, so that there is at least someone doing the job. Call it a test run perhaps. -- [[Tyrone]] still in the Cygnet Theatre, April 28, 2006.
		+	\|-
		+	!

Logs:The Room Plot - To Solve - Perchance To Dream... Travel

Sieghilde — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 00:59:11 GMT

← Older revision		Revision as of 00:59, 6 September 2010
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	this started.		this started.

-	~~[[Category: RP logs]]~~
	}}		}}

Logs:The Room Plot - To Solve - Perchance To Dream... Travel

Sattriya — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 00:43:09 GMT

Created page with '{{Log | cast = *Baron *Sattriya *Dervish The Whirling ST | setting = In the Empty Room. With clock, stuffed toys, and a table set for a tea party. | log = The sensa...'

New page

{{Log
| cast = *[[Baron]]
*[[Sattriya]]
*[[Dervish]] The Whirling ST

| setting = In the Empty Room. With clock, stuffed toys, and a table set for a tea party.

| log = The sensation is probably familiar by now. It's been month -- but suddenly,
you find yourselves in that room, again. The one that takes people for longer
and longer periods, each time. The decor is slightly different, today: most
significant is the bookshelf with a clock -- the display on the clock reads
7:59:58, and is dropping by one per second as it ticks downwards.

She has little with her. She had been painting, waiting in case there
would be someone breaking and entering in the dead of night. Bare foot, in one
of those ugly sweaters, but green. And a spanking-new pretty awesome haircut.
Brush in one hand, palette knife in the other, the usual 'stuff' in her jeans.
She's not surprised to be here, but... to see him. Yes. Yes she is surprised
by that. "Hecate preserve." The brush and the knife won't have a lot of use,
at least none she can see, so she carefully sets them aside. "This is it,
lover. The place I told you about. The Room. "See the clock there? That's how
long we're going to be trapped in here. Unless we figure out how the fuck to
get out of here."

Blink. Baron lowers the smoldering cigarette in his hand, eyes narrowing and
hackles rising. He wrinkles his nose, luminous brown eyes quickly scanning the
interior of the Room. He's wearing a leather jacket, and had been working the
door at Serpent's Garden. The black man's jaw muscles ripple, and his
shoulders tense. But he doesn't say anything, merely pads over to the clock to
inspect it.

She slouches against a wall, yanking a piece of black licorice from
her pocket. It hangs from the corner of her mouth like her once trademark
clove used to. No advice, no words at all. She just watches him, letting him
do his own inspection, make up his own conclusions about the space and time
and the cage holding them both.

The inexorable ticking of the clock is just loud enough to be irritating.
Whoever wound it up should probably be shot. It appears to be an ordinary
alarm clock: digital, but running with a spring rather than from electricity;
the ticking comes as each number flips down. Oddly, the clock bears no logo or
manufacturer's mark.

Baron frowns, sticking his face right up against the clock. Then he looks at
the bookshelf on which it is on, and finally the rest of the room. His eyes are
narrowed with concentration: he's trying to keep the rising panic at bay by
sheer focus.

Watching him, concern and love rampant in her gaze. Easier on her,
having been here before, many times; this room like the other, the same rules
that apply, the same sense of claustrophobia. She waits for him to break the
silence, lets him work through what he has to. No need to push, they have
almost 8 hours to kill anyway.

"You any good with clocks? De-vices? Think this one is a bit fucked up. Needs
fi-xing, maybe." Baron steps back from the clock, glancing around. His luminous
brown eyes scan over the stuffed animals. He moves over, but doesn't touch,
nostrils flaring. "On a wrrrrrongness ra-ting, this place is ranking pretty
high."

A push off the wall then, so she can move over to study the clock more
intently, "Fixing how, babe?" She doesn't have much in the way of tools, but..
So she reaches for it, with the intent of inspecting how it's put together, how
to take it apart, perhaps. Or adjust it.

"I dunno. Take a look. I don't like these things, though." Baron wrinkles his
nose. And then puffs on his cigarette until the end is burning red hot. He
takes it out of his mouth, and prods one of the plushy toys in the belly.

The only sound in the room: a slightly louder *TICK* as the counter drops to
7:58:59, and the noise you make by your own speaking, breathing, and moving. A
smell arises from the plush toy: burning hair, but it doesn't react in any
improbable manner to the assault. No claws to catch, no voice screaming in
pain. It's just a stuffed toy...

"Huh." She doesn't seem to notice him torturing the plushies. She
carries the clock back to where she'd left the brush and the palette knife. Not
exactly a screwdriver, but needs must when the Devil drives. Settling down
cross-legged, she sets to work, carefully, telling him in an almost casual
aside, "Satan won't even know you're gone. When we get back? Time won't have
moved at all. We'll be 8 hours further along in terms of body needs and such,
and prolly aging, for all I know. But no one will have missed us at all. That...
that's the worst thing. When I think about coming here again and again. It's
double the time it was each trip before. We could die in here. If we keep
coming back. If that happens... " a pause, the knife held up, held steadily, "I
might ask you to put me down. Kill me. And if you love me? You'll do it."

"Satan won't carrrrrre if I'm gone", Baron mutters absent-mindedly, wrinkling
his nose at the smell. The black man glances aside at Sattriya, mouth drawing
into a thin line. "Stop thin-king, speaking like that and fo-cus on the clock."
Not particularly sympathetic. The black man shakes his head, showing his teeth
at the plushies, and then steps towards her, peering over her shoulder at the
timepiece.

"Look at this, lover." His admonition has an unusual effect. It makes
her smile. A beautiful thing. She doesn't say it, but her spine straightens a
bit and the petulant-gloomy cast to her face slides away like fog under a blast
of sun. "It's all mashed up together, it's a wonder the thing works. But see
this... " The palette knife, still intact, is put aside, so she can hold the
clock in both hands, turning it for his inspection. "See what's scratched on
the faces of the gears? I think it says, Feed me! Can you tell?

And still the clock ticks. Tock. Tick. 7:56:00. Of course, what might a clock
eat? For that matter, who would set up a tea party with no cakes or tea?
Fortunately, there aren't any others present to confuse matters even further.

"Feed me? Well. Fuck me." Baron stands there, nonplussed, peering down at the
clock. After a while he says, "Blood is always popularrrrr, with the fucked up
creeps who come up with shit like this." Nose wrinkle. Thinking of Them, of
course.

Krista said... you can't get free unless one of you dies. Jutte tried
using Lily's blood in the other room. But this isn't that room, is it. It's
another King Thing." The palette knife isn't all that sharp, but it could be
made that way. "I don't suppose you have anything sharp o..." then she just
makes that grinding sound, deep and harsh, that passes for her laugh. "You
claw, I'm not afraid to shed a little blood for the cause."

"The fuck you will." Baron offers Sattriya a small smile, stepping up to the
clock. He raises his own hand to his lips, and bites on the outside of his
palm; blood flows from skin punctured by two dozen needlesharp teeth. The black
man grimaces, lowering his hand over the clock, and pumps it into a fist, voer
and over again, letting the blood flow into the machinery.
Tick. Tick. .. Tick. Tick.. Ticktick. The blood flows into the machinery,
disrupting its flow slightly.

She never expects him to be the sacrifice, never wants him to do what
she wouldn't do herself for him. She also doesn't protest when it's clear he's
going to do something. So she holds the clock steadily, watching the liquid
drip, trying to work through the web of potential outcomes. What is success in
a situation like this? What is failure?" Silence. She's good at that. Being
quiet.

As the blood continues to flow, pooling on the floor, the clock gradually gets
gummed up. It stops, reading 7:53:17, and bits of blood flow over the floor, as
well. That blood there? It ... disappears. Vanishes away, as if it had never
been there.

"Huh." Baron draws back his hand, fingers flexing. His eyes widen, and then
narrow, nostrils flaring. "I rrrrreally have no i-dea what the fuck is going on
here. Give me your hand. Better you do it too, I think." So much for chivalry.
If she does extend a hand, he will close his fingers over it, puncturing her
skin with invisible claws.

"I said I would," she tells him without protest, letting him take the
hand, letting the blood bead up in exquisite red drops, pool up, gather and
begin to slide clockward. "I don't have any ideas either. I never do when I'm
in this place. The last time I almost got lost from my body."

As Sattriya's blood joins with Baron's, dripping on the floor, it also vanishes
away within moments of striking the ground. After an uncomfortably long time,
with both of you having been bled a fair bit, the blood begins to pool,
however, and is no longer absorbed. Instead, there's a faint scent of ozone,
and the barely-heard cry of a child in pain.

"Fuck? The fuck? Tell me what the fuck is going on." Baron stares distrustfully
at the teddy bears, wrinkling his nose. And then blinks. "What was it you said
about those teddy bearrrrrs? Krista had some kinda toy, right?"
"Tick", goes the clock, counting down again. 3:59:59. 3:59:58...

"Doll," she says faintly, "It's at my place. She gave it to her sister,
when they were taking her away. To get shocked. She died... of a heart attack
later." The cry punches at her heart, punches through it. "Oh, Hecate. Not
again. Why is it always kids?" The last attempts at humor, dark and sere, as
she looks in Baron's direction, as if it's some sort of macabre inside joke.
"There much be something I can do. SOMETHING." A hand slaps at the side of her
head, as if to shake a blockage loose. "All the pain, all the breaking. There's
got to be something in there that will work."

"Yeah, I don't fucking know", Baron mutters, without humour - he's said the
very same thing far too many times as it is. The black man peers down a little
warily at the blood, and then reaches out to take a teddy bear, dipping its
foot in the pool.

Ooh, yummy, a damp teddy bear. Even if it was a logical idea, the damn thing
doesn't see to have any effect. As a mild surprise, however, the clock's
mechanism seems clean, now.

After a moment or two, when her eyes had been crawling the walls,
looking, perhaps for things scrawled there, she says. "Two choices. Figure out
what the fuck this puzzle is all about on its terms, and it's tied most likely
to what happened to Krista in the asylum... or... " paint-spangled fingers
spread slowly, "We find another way out of here on our terms. This is... this
is like Dream, Baron. This place. Bad Dream. And dream... can be changed."

"Drrrrream, huh?" Baron wrinkles his nose, eyes narrowing as he scans the
inside of the room. He knows a thing or two about dreams.

"It's like one big, long, bad dream. One fucked up nightmare. And I'm
betting that it evolved and got all the power it needed from one little girl
who was 'treated' in an insane asylum. I know a thing or two about those." He
knows, no surprise, of course. "Ozone. Electroconvulsive Shock Therapy. Therapy
my left butt cheek. Zap the brain, watch it stutter and shudder, and things go
zing buzzz... and come unlatched." She puts the clock carefully aside as she
points out, "What we did cut the countdown in half. We could probably get out
that way this time. But it would take more and more and more, later. Someone
has to die, she said. I think someone did." She pulls a couple of the stuffed
toys out of the mix and mashes them together, making a makeshift pillow. "I'm
going out," she tells him. "Don't worry, I'll come back if the creatures are
out there. "It's about time I learned that last bit of being broken."

"Going out wherrrrrre? Oh. Right. No. Wait. What do we want? I'm kind of
harrrrrdwired to fuck around with dreams." Baron frowns, and peers down at his
feet, eyes narrowed into a thin line.

It's faint, and absurdly slow, but Baron's feet shimmer, and end up clad in a
different set of shoes. The clock stutters, suddenly, losing a second.

She hasn't gone yet, though she's made herself as much at home on the
floor as she might have on that ratty sleeping-bag bed caged round with screen
walls at home. "I don't know," she confesses, tucking a hand up under her neck
while she stares up at him. "I just know it's time to take the fight to
whatever it is, instead of letting it run the show. Look at your shoes, lover...

"I know. I just made them." Baron tilts his head from side to side, slowly
cracking his neck. He slips out of the shoes, curling his toes. "I guess this
means the norrrrrmal rules apply, more or less." The black man looks a whole
lot less nervous at having pegged this place, even superficially. "I'm kinda
shit at fighting in dreams, though. My brother lives for this shit. But if I
try and take it on and it's any good, I just might lose. But. Short of that.
Any changes you want made? Any item we need, shit like that?"

"The doll. I want the doll. And my sword. The one in the painting, you
know it." A brilliant smile for him then, "It'll be okay. Maybe it won't be
that kind of fight. I'm not sure. But we need to try, right? Because we don't
just lay down and cry and die. We fight."

"Hrrrrrrf." Baron huffs. Is it just the lighting, or are his eyes acquiring a
tint of yellow? He sounds a little different too. Growlier. The black man
narrows his eyes, holding out his hands as he tries to bend the dream through
the lens of the alien, Wyrd part of himself.

The doll appears in his right hand, though it looks a little off... simple,
made according to the painting Sattriya made for him rather than the orginal.
He shakes his head, nostrils wrinkling. "Didn't manage the sword."

"S'all right, love." And it is, just from the sound of her voice, and
the pleasure in her smile. "Probably not a good idea to go in with swords
blazing anyway, it wasn't one when the Spi... " she turns her attention then,
to where the paint brush is still lying on the floor. "It was my brush. Hand it
to me, will you? It's always been my first weapon of choice."

"Can do. I can prrrrrrobably break the dream too, bit by bit, but that won't be
pret-ty. Let's call that Plan C." Baron bends down, picking up the brush, and
hands it to Sattriya.

Riya goes into a trance, and from there to Astral Projection.

From afar, Dervish(Nem) notes that as you enter the Astral, you see a
masculine-shaped shadow in front of you. It is cut in half by a bright, glowing
light, as if a lightning bolt had just passed through and neatly bisected an
image. Everything is dim, blurry, and uncertain. It takes some searching,
however, but you feel both Baron's rage and also a frightened, lost sensation,
like someone who just woke up in a strange place ... and that shadow threatens
to make it worse.

From afar, Dervish(Nem) notes you believe you have entered the dreamscape --
although the sleeper is not visible.

"Lover." Her mouth moves, but there's no sound coming from it. The word
is there. It hangs in the air, like some beacon of silver moonlight. "I see
you." The words are painted, that brush moves slowly, tracing each one with
care and patience, even though time is not her friend right now. "I'm here." A
pause, as if she's turning to look around, or refilling the brush with another
load of paint.

"Uh huh." Baron stares blankly at the brush, and the woman holding it. "Any
idea what this place needs to fix it-self?" Baron is not an abstract thinker,
and to him every puzzle is a Gordian knot waiting to happen.

"Find her." Silver sliding to blue-pink, swooping in slow arcs and
weaves. "Fix her." She doesn't know -where- the her is. But she has something.
Something important. Studying the doll for a moment or two, she makes a few
changes to it with the tip of her brush, bringing it closer to the original,
bringing it closer to what she hopes will be the compass, or the bait. "Maybe
this?" Quizzical, silver-into-grey.

Baron stares equally blankly at Sattriya as she goes about the task of
fulfilling the obscure requirements of the room. He watches for a while, before
saying, "Give it five minutes, and then we'll do things the quick and dirrrrrty
way."

"Hold this, please." She hands him the doll then, and provided he takes
it, she'll go about her next attempt. The brush is held like an athame, and in
the other is... a stick of licorice, swung like a censer. "Hecate, Goddess of
the Crossroads, Hecate, Guide of the lost. Hecate hear your daughter. Hecate,
hear your daughter. One is lost. One is lost in the dark. One is lost at the
crossroads. Hecate, by the love I bear you, come to your handmaiden's aid." She
turns the brush then, making a swipe at her opposite wrist. It opens a thin
line, and from it flows, not blood, but a thin green snake that drops to the
ground, head up, tongue flickering. Questing.

The Snake's tongue flickers, teasingly, and it begins to circle around
Sattriya. As Baron watches, however, it dashes for the table, as if begging him
to chase it ... and a line opens up in its side, oozing scarlet fluid.

Dervish(Nem) pages: You see that the manlike shadow immediately tries to attack
the snake. Its first blow cuts it in the side...

Dervish(Nem) pages: You also hear the Goddess's voice in your head, or
something that could be hers: each shock killed a part of her. It regrew ...
but more was killed each time.

\The table has a teapot (empty), and six sets of cups,
saucers, and dessert plates. Plus napkins and what look like glass forks --
they're sufficiently crystalline that they're more visible by the fact they
distort what's below them than by the light they reflect."
Baron wrinkles his nose at the snake, but then again this /is/ the sort of
thing one expects to see in dreams.

He stares blankly at the cups and thetable, but neurons are not firing. This is not
his kind of problem. "Two mi-nutes."

"Save the snake." She rushes forward then, brush held at the ready, and
it slashes again and again at something Baron cannot see, but she can. It
splashes against it, over, it, a man shape. "The table, Baron. The table. They
shocked her and shocked her and shocked her. And every time part of her died.
It would come back, grow back, but less each time. She's on the table. She's
dying. On the table. Again and again. We have to stop it. NOW."

"I have no fuck-ing idea what you'rrrrrre tal-king about." Baron huffs loudly,
eyes narrowing with irritation. He's a creature of the senses, of the concrete.
He's bewildered, out of his depth, and this very abstract situation is neither
something he understands or is willing to deal with right now. "Ninety seconds."

Dervish(Nem) pages: The masculine shape does resemble a doctor, if all in black
rather than white. It's still slashed by the lightning-stroke, but the bolt has
grown dimmer, now merely uncomfortably bright to look at. And it stops,
seemingly turning to look at you. Its voice sounds impossibly sad as it says,
"Recidivism -- when she's stronger, we'll have to do it /again/." The snake's
voice, slightly fainter, says "That battle has been lost ... teach her she's
dead..."

"All right." Riya looks utterly devastated. Utterly drained. She's
talking to Baron, but also not, the way her head is cocked to the side. "Baron.
Pick up the snake... she won't harm you. Please?" Then she turns toward the
table, plunging her hands down, through it, until they seem to be cradling
something, the size of a child's head. Her own head tips back, and the words
paint and flow, "It's over. It's done. It's over. You can go. You are at rest.
You are at peace. They can't hurt you anymore. Done." The brush moves, painting
a door, a door that is open. It's blurry and fast, because there's NO NONONO
TIME. "There. Through there. Your garden. Your rest. Peace. No shocks. No
doctors. I will close the door behind you. And they will -never hurt you
again-. Go. Please, liebchen. Please!" The last word is limned in sun yellow,
against cerulean blue. It is a heavenly sky, and it drifts towards the door,
two small gold hands down, hooked into what can't be seen, the trapped soul of
a dreamer beyond life.

Baron blinks as things start to happen, and obediently reaches down, to pick up
the snake. He's not particularly bothered by reptiles, so it's not exactly a
chore for him. He still looks like he has no idea what's happening, but the
fact that things /are/ happening is promising.

The brush moves, painting a doorway. What takes shape owes little to the modern
image of a door: more of a slash in the table, which opens to show velvet
black. There's ozone, again. A crackle, visible only to Sattriya, and the edges
of the room become suddenly blurred, an even vaguer memory of the room than the
'doorway' resembles a door. You both feel a sudden tug, dragging you towards
the new doorway -- but there is also a 'click', from where the unusable door
had stood on the room's perimeter.

From afar, Dervish(Nem) notes that doorway tugs at you, fairly strongly. You
might want to get back into your body while you can reach it...

"Time to go..." if words could have a beautiful 'voice', hers does. The
snake turns to regard Baron, staring up into his face in a consideration, and
with an intelligence that is vast and profound. The tongue flickers, as if it
is blowing him a kiss. "Baron. Time... to go.. back."

There is a silver chain, something thin, almost invisible, a chain that
burns through Riya's ugly sweater, hooked to her spine. Reaching back for it,
she starts winding it around and around her hand. As she does, she begins to
recede. A sense of 'down', of sinking away.

"Don't need to tell me twice." Baron pads quickly towards the door, making sure
that Sattriya is following; if she isn't, he will tug her along. The snake is
carried gently in the other hand.

And out the door you go, making it in once piece. The snake disappears,
unbidden, as you pass, although Baron finds a single green scale in his hands
as he blinks and finds himself at his post at the Serpent. Sattriya has her
paintbrush in her hand, looking at the painting she was working on, before all
this started.

[[Category: RP logs]]
}}

Miles/Photojournalism

Filmore — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 23:22:18 GMT

Created page with '<center> {| border="0" |- |<gallery widths="115px" heights="115px" perrow="3"> Image:phjo4.jpg| Image:phjo5.jpg| Image:phjo6.jpg| Image:phjo8.jpg| Image:phjo3.jpg| Image:phjo2.jp...'

New page

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File:Phjo8.jpg

Filmore — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 23:16:07 GMT

uploaded "[[File:Phjo8.jpg]]"

Miles

Filmore — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 23:13:50 GMT

← Older revision		Revision as of 23:13, 5 September 2010
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	\|-		\|-
	\| {{:Miles/Contacts}}		\| {{:Miles/Contacts}}
		+	\|-
		+	! Photojournalism
		+	\|-
		+	\| {{:Miles/Photojournalism}}
	\|-		\|-
	! Soundtrack		! Soundtrack

Claude

Claude — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 21:30:08 GMT

← Older revision		Revision as of 21:30, 5 September 2010
(3 intermediate revisions not shown)
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	\| image = Claude_Shadow.jpg		\| image = Claude_Shadow.jpg
	\| name = Claude Beaumier		\| name = Claude Beaumier
		+	\| age = 22
	\| occupation = Paranoid Schizophrenic. Also Musician.		\| occupation = Paranoid Schizophrenic. Also Musician.
	\| nationality = French		\| nationality = French
	\| vice = Gluttony		\| vice = Gluttony
-	\| virtue = ~~Faith~~	+	\| virtue = Hope
	\|[[image:Claude_Profile.jpg]]		\|[[image:Claude_Profile.jpg]]
	\|		\|
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	*Occult?: More!		*Occult?: More!
		+
		+	*Vampires?: Long story.

	==People (And Un-people)==		==People (And Un-people)==
Line 82:		Line 85:
	*[[Alaric]] Opium and Massage. The right man at the right time.		*[[Alaric]] Opium and Massage. The right man at the right time.

-	*[[Visigny]], [[Artje]], [[Loewe]], [[Ooshki]] - ~~'''AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH'''~~	+	*[[Visigny]] Gratitude and Respect, emphasized by fear.
		+
		+	*[[Artje]] A pompous fashionable bitch. An example of humanity replaced by clear glass.
		+
		+	*[[Loewe]] Something about him makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
		+
		+	*[[Laibah]] Who is she, really?
		+
		+	*[[Ooshki]] - . . .
		+
		+	*[[Jersey]] and [[Nevaeh]] Courteous and unreadable.

	==Logs==		==Logs==
	{{ rplogs \| name = Claude}}		{{ rplogs \| name = Claude}}

Tao Neidan/Employees

Lawfuldeviant — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 21:14:22 GMT

← Older revision		Revision as of 21:14, 5 September 2010
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-	<font face="Book Antiqua" size=3>~~The following are NPC Employees~~:</font>	+	{\| width="100%"
-	~~<table>~~	+	\|-
-	<tr><td>	+	\|<center>'''PCs'''</center>
-	[[File:annabella.jpg\|100px\|center]]	+	\|-
-	~~</td><td>~~	+	\|[[File:sofiya1.jpg\|100px\|center]]
-	<font face="Book Antiqua" size=3>'''Name''':Annabella Stohl<br>'''Nationality''': American<br>'''Age''': 28<br>'''Temperament''': Soft spoken and kind. Very smart and playful.<br>'''Info''': Annabella is the full time clerk of the shop. If Griffen isn't there, she is. She also manages the stores finances.</font>	+	\|<font face="Book Antiqua" size=3>'''Name''': [[Sofiya]]<br>'''Job''': Sofiya is the security.</font>
-	~~</td></tr><tr><td>~~	+	\|-
-	[[File:danny.jpg\|100px\|center]]	+	\|<center>'''NPCs'''</center>
-	~~</td><td>~~	+	\|-
-	<font face="Book Antiqua" size=3>'''Name''': Daniel Bäcker<br>'''Nationality''': Austrian<br>'''Age''': 20<br>'''Temperament''': Hyper and talkative. Very friendly and very open.<br>'''Info''': Danny is the part time clerk who works after school. He's going to college for music.</font>	+	\|[[File:annabella.jpg\|100px\|center]]
-	~~</td></tr><tr><td>~~	+	\|<font face="Book Antiqua" size=3>'''Name''': Annabella Stohl<br>'''Nationality''': American<br>'''Age''': 28<br>'''Temperament''': Soft spoken and kind. Very smart and playful.<br>'''Info''': Annabella is the full time clerk of the shop. If Griffen isn't there, she is. She also manages the stores finances.</font>
-	[[File:johannpc.jpg\|100px\|center]]	+	\|-
-	~~</td><td>~~	+	\|[[File:danny.jpg\|100px\|center]]
-	<font face="Book Antiqua" size=3>'''Name''': Johan Schneider<br>'''Nationality''': Austrian<br>'''Age''': 34<br>'''Temperament''': He's quiet and slightly eccentric. He tends to mumble to himself while he works.<br>'''Info''': Johan the other part timer. He's rich and doesn't need to work for the shop but does. He works with the books section and is OCD with it. </font>	+	\|<font face="Book Antiqua" size=3>'''Name''': Daniel Bäcker<br>'''Nationality''': Austrian<br>'''Age''': 20<br>'''Temperament''': Hyper and talkative. Very friendly and very open.<br>'''Info''': Danny is the part time clerk who works after school. He's going to college for music.</font>
-	~~</td></tr></table>~~	+	\|-
		+	\|[[File:johannpc.jpg\|100px\|center]]
		+	\|<font face="Book Antiqua" size=3>'''Name''': Johan Schneider<br>'''Nationality''': Austrian<br>'''Age''': 34<br>'''Temperament''': He's quiet and slightly eccentric. He tends to mumble to himself while he works.<br>'''Info''': Johan the other part timer. He's rich and doesn't need to work for the shop but does. He works with the books section and is OCD with it. </font>
		+	\|-
		+	\|}

Orphic Circle

Caramia — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 20:34:49 GMT

← Older revision		Revision as of 20:34, 5 September 2010
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	*The Secret of Mozart's Skull In Janury, 2006 forensic and DNA experts reported they were unable to ascertain whether the skull purported to be Mozart's was actually his. (RL). The skull is in the Mozart Museum, and strange things have been happening there.		*The Secret of Mozart's Skull In Janury, 2006 forensic and DNA experts reported they were unable to ascertain whether the skull purported to be Mozart's was actually his. (RL). The skull is in the Mozart Museum, and strange things have been happening there.
	*Crime Museum - A new delivery of torture instruments have been received at the Crime Museum. The assistant curator was found dead the next week. Contact - Caramia		*Crime Museum - A new delivery of torture instruments have been received at the Crime Museum. The assistant curator was found dead the next week. Contact - Caramia
		+
		+	Ongoing -
		+	[[Logs:PrP Helga Hartig - Hartig House]]
	\|-		\|-
	\|}		\|}

Caramia

Caramia — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 20:32:22 GMT

← Older revision		Revision as of 20:32, 5 September 2010
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	* [[Logs: Cut to Shreds - Cygnet Theater PrP]]		* [[Logs: Cut to Shreds - Cygnet Theater PrP]]
	* [[Logs: The Ten of Swords - Cygnet Theater PrP]]		* [[Logs: The Ten of Swords - Cygnet Theater PrP]]
		+
		+	Another concluded PRP
		+
		+	*[[Logs:PrP - Skeleton in Your Closet Part 1]]
		+	*[[Logs:PrP - Skeleton in Your Closet Part 2]]
		+	*[[Logs:PrP-A Skeleton In Your Closet - Gateway Between Pt 3]]
		+	*[[Logs:PrP - The Skeleton in Your Closet - Finale]]

	______________Ongoing PrP_________________________		______________Ongoing PrP_________________________
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	*[[Logs:Is that where I left her? - Helga Hartig Ghost PrP continues]]		*[[Logs:Is that where I left her? - Helga Hartig Ghost PrP continues]]
	*[[Logs:Mirror Mirror on the Floor - Helga Hartig PrP continues]]		*[[Logs:Mirror Mirror on the Floor - Helga Hartig PrP continues]]
-	*[[Logs:PrP - ~~Skeleton in Your Closet Part 1~~]]	+	*[[Logs:PrP Helga Hartig - Hartig House]]
-	*[[Logs:PrP - Skeleton in Your Closet Part 2]]	+
-	*[[Logs:PrP-A Skeleton In Your Closet - Gateway Between Pt 3]]	+
-	*[[Logs:PrP - The Skeleton in Your Closet - Finale]]	+
	__________________Other Logs________________________		__________________Other Logs________________________

Logs:PrP Helga Hartig - Hartig House

Caramia — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 20:22:20 GMT

Created page with '{{Log | cast = *Caramia Self and ST *Jean-Marie | setting = Hartig House - Spooky, unoccupied townhouse in Vienna | log = The house is nondescript, remnants of former b...'

New page

{{Log
| cast = *[[Caramia]] Self and ST
*[[Jean-Marie]]

| setting = Hartig House - Spooky, unoccupied townhouse in Vienna

| log = The house is nondescript, remnants of former beauty tagged here and there,
shadows of an Empire long gone, and never forgotten. A coat of arms above the door, the
plaque cracked and in danger of disintegrating altogether. The windows are boarded up,
the yard struggling to welcome spring with anything other than roof tiles and weeds. A
large padlock on the door is rusty. It is... just a house, like others, but oddly easy to
overlook when one walks down the street, as if a curtain had been drawn in front of it.

Jean-Marie will pull up in his 1974 Triumph Spitfire. It is a small car, a fast car, and
it must have been lovingly maintained for it to remain her. Of course, he did not do it
himself. He will pull up in front of the house and park, getting out. He will lift a hand
to Caramia. "Bonne nuit, madame. I just have to get my equipment out of my trunk."

She's wrapped against the chill of a spring evening in a long, fluffy coat the
color of new daffodil shoots, arms folded around her. Josef isn't here, and from the
mutinous/annoyed look on her face, his absence is probably the culmination of an
argument. She doesn't say anything, just lifts a hand in greeting. A small flashlight in
it, though it is off. After watching him for awhile, she says, "The lock doesn't look all
that sturdy. It could probably be easily removed if we need to."
Jean-Marie says "We will most likely need to, but first let me take the photographs that
I need." He will open the trunk of the car, which is crammed full. He will remove three
medium sized cases and one rather large cases. He will get them himself, and lay them out
on the ground, closing the car trunk. Then he will open one up. It is an
expensive-looking analog camera. He will assemble it. "Let me get pictures of the outside
of the house first."

"Pictures?" A bit of surprise, but not all that much. "Vinz and Rowana were
talking about pictures, cameras, equipment... " back to arms folded around herself, as if
there's a bite in the air, or something else, some seepage from the house, perhaps. "I
didn't follow a lot of it. Rowana certainly knows her 'stuff'." She watches from the
slight distance, not fidgeting, not looking particularly impatient. "I never really
thought about things like that. But then, I never expected to be in the position I'm
currently occupying either."

Jean-Marie says "I may be a dilettante and a rich baron, but I am also a trained
paranormal investigator. Investigating hauntings is much like investigating crimes;
forensics is a key part of it. In a way, ghosts are more tied to their environment than
we are." He will quickly circumvent the house. "When studying the results, it will do us
much good to have records." He will pack everything away carefully. "Now, how do we get
in? I'd much rather not break a window. Let us try the door?"

A nod at that. "I can see I have a lot to learn. About a lot." An impish little
grin, the little cloud on her emotional landscape clearing away as she heads towards the
stairs. One foot on the first, and then she's flying backward, hitting against a broken
fountain hard enough to certainly hurt.

Jean-Marie will immediately rush to Caramia's aid. "Are you okay? It looks like you were
expected."
Jean-Marie will turn and begin to concentrate on the area around them. "She's manifesting
outside of the house?"

"I don't think we're welcome." She's okay, shaken rather than stirred. Though she
probably doesn't need his help, she accepts it anyway. "I don't know who it is. Do you
have the mirror? If so, then I suppose she could be, no?"

Jean-Marie says "I do not have the mirror with me today. I know it is the urge to get
everything done in a rush, but we have time, and I wanted to see if this place is a
haunt." While helping her up, he'll keep looking around the yard. "Let me see if I can
pinpoint our little friend."
"Then I don't know who it is," she replies. She turns in place, like some little green top, looking, looking.
"Whoever it is, isn't showing him or herself to me. It makes it a little.. annoying," though it is said whimsically,
"I thought they'd just be 'there', if they're around. But no."

Jean-Marie says "I wonder. You cannot see them at all? Neither can I. I wonder if this
place is more dangerous than we thought."
"I can see them, when they wish to be seen. Some just don't." She tucks her hands
up in her full sleeves and studies the house again. "If what we think happened here, then
yes, I imagine it is more dangerous. And who knows how many people died here?"

Jean-Marie says "Only the murderers. We will discover it, in time. You were attacked the
moment you put your foot on the door? Let us see what happens when I do it." Moving
slowly, so he can still focus, he moves toward the door. "Be ready to catch me."
Nothing. No reaction at all. Except for a cold vortex that slams into existence,
so cold, so hard she can feel it all the way out by the fountain where she's still
standing. "At least it didn't hit -you-," she comments cheerfully.

Jean-Marie will frown slightly. "I have never felt a haunting this powerful, Caramia. It
is at the same time daunting and exhilirating." He will take another step onto the stairs.

Air seems to... solidify. A pane of something that looks like thick glass
appears, but it is ice, thick ice. And it begins to roll, starting to form a cylinder
around the man where he stands. Cara makes a startled sound, and start forward in a rush,
only to be shoved again. This time it's not a hard fall, she misses a pile of cracked and
broken roof tiles that have avalanched off the house.

This is something new! He will jump back with all the muster he can, disrupting is
concentration. And yet still, he does not see any ghosts? Can he see one of them in a
window?

Gone. The ice wall. As if it never exists. No shards, no moisture, just the cold
that had been there before. A deep, deep silence, as if ambient sounds were being sucked
into the ground, leaving nothing behind but a void. There is nothing in the window.
Nothing -in- it, because the window is a black void, one that pulses in a slow rhythm.
Things move in there. Things fleeing. Things being chased.

Jean-Marie says "No sign of a controlling intelligence?" He mutters to himself. "I hope
this does not mean what I think it /must/ mean."

She comes as close as she can, one foot placed in front of the other in a
stubborn promenade. There's an area, one she's discovering by way of flying lessons, and
she's careful not to cross. "What does it mean, Jean-Marie?" Trepidation, but
exhilaration, both. The new world that her almost-death has opened to her is much more
complex than she'd expected.

Jean-Marie says "This is mostly speculation, and I really do not have the tools to see it
physically, but this could be a Genius Locii. In other words, the house itself is alive.
In which case, we have a significant problem."

"I uh..." words don't come. It's beyond what she comprehends, can call readily to
mind, so she stands there, in thought for some long moments. "I just started a book I
think might talk about things like that... " a long, intense stare at the house then.
"What makes that happen? Makes a house alive?"

Jean-Marie says "I could give you a lot of speculation, but since I have never
investigated one personally, that is all what it would be. However, I know that it
happens. If you want a fictional example, have you ever seen the movie 'The Shining?'"

"Yes. My mother was very upset when she found out. After I screamed the apartment
awake four nights in a row." A little, wistful smile at that. "Well, perhaps this will be
your first then, hmm?" Back to staring at the house, an intense consideration. "Perhaps
we'd best do some research... or do you want to keep trying to go in? I'm okay with that
if you are."

Jean-Marie says "OKay. Let me get my Kirlian camera. I want to take some more exterior
pictures before we leave."

"We're going?" She sounds neither disappointed nor relieved. He's in charge, and
she's just along for the ride. Something else seems to have a reaction though, a deep
chuckle, booming basso thunder. It comes from right in front of the door, where the
intense cold spot was.

What he finds is... staggering. The house is almost sentient, almost. Things
attached to it, things that hover on the brink of existence, so weak and faint, things
that are pulsing with malevolence and power. A huge bulky man on the porch, holding a
pair of crossed kriss blades. Confident he can't be seen, he stares at the pair seeking
entrance with utter disdain. There are frays and tatters in the house's defenses, most of
them too small for a person to slide through. One or two might be large enough.

Jean-Marie will attempt to keep his face neutral, so he cannot reveal the conflicting
emotions to Caramia. First, there is a degree of terror--he has been witness to nothing
as significant as this, and he knows that attempting to plumb the mysteris of this house
will be the most dangerous thing he has ever done. Second, there is a degree of
excitement--this is what he exists to do. This is what he has been looking for. Third,
there is a degree of hunger -- it's a smorgasboard!

"Jean-Marie?" It's a hushed little inquiry. She may not know much yet, but she
knows, atavistically, that this place is hell in a house-bottle, and it scares her,
rightfully so.

Jean-Marie says "We need to go for now. We need to know the house's history. I did not
see the obvious clue in my research on Helga. If she had been murdered here, I assumed
that she was the first. /That/ was foolish of me. But I need to develop these pictures as
well as hit the books. No one should come here alone, Caramia."

She starts walking backwards, towards the gate that is hanging open, and then
bangs shut. The spikes and the broken pieces make it look like a grinning, malevolent
mouth. "I'm... good with that," she gets out carefully. "As long as we -can- leave."

Jean-Marie will pick up his two camera cases and look at the walls surrounding the home.
How high are they? He will frown. "So they want to play rough, do they? First, let us not
panic."

"I'm not," she reassures him. "Just tell me what to do. You're the expert, I
trust you to get us out of here without leaving too much behind." The silence is gelid,
ripples of greater and lesser intensity. Under it, under the ground, in the far reaches
of the garden... things stir. Sad things, mournful things, things held captive for
decades. All waiting. Hoping."

Jean-Marie will toss the cameras over the side of the walls; they are in crash-proof
cases. That's the point. Then he will approach the gate. "Open up, you."

It begins to do so, a slow, overly dramatic creeeeakkk, the sound effects of a
cheesy movie. When it's opened half-way, it stops. The sense of sinister amused -waiting-
is intense and unmistakable.

Jean-Marie says "Oh, /ho/. You think you are so smart, you little devil. Caramia? I am
going to brace the door open with my body. When I do, you need to move very quickly and
get out. Do you think you can do that?"

"Of course." She moves that way, watching for obstacles that might suddenly
appear, for any cold spots, anything that would trigger sudden anxiety or fear. Nothing
happens. The gate doesn't move.

Jean-Marie will move to brace his back against one end and his arms against the other, to
use his body and his strength to keep them open. Caramia is after all, a woman, and must
be treated chivalrously. Also, he can probably take a lot more pain and damage than she
can.

Before she darts out she removes the fluffy coat. Under it is a sleek,
cat-looking woman, all tight, black clothing. The coat is wadded, folded, compressed,
with no consideration of what it might do to the material. She wasn’t big before, she's
smaller now. It's an easy slide, she doesn't even touch him much, except for the warmth
of her smile as she makes a fast exit.

Once Caramia is free, he will count to two and then slide out with a quick motion. He'll
move out of the way of the gate's backswing as well.

It snaps, like some little baffled trap. Then bangs open, snaps shut. Snapsnapsnap.
The prey is away and someone is frustrated. A boom from the direction of the house,
and another. They are low, deep, resonating through the ground. The sound of a
savage heart, a wild pulse. Or hunting drums.

Jean-Marie will glance over his shoulder. "Caramia, I think we have struck the gold mine!"

She's not far along the street, just far enough that she can get the house in her
sights, as if she's a cat, indeed, eyeing up the fascinating, twitching prey. "I just
hope it doesn't cave in on us at some point!"

Jean-Marie says "Our next step is to construct a complete history of the house. I am also
going to buy it, if I can." He smiles. "In addition, we need to set up a time to look at
the mirror. Obviously, my first idea is a wash, madame!"

"When the first sketch doesn't work, you salvage what you can for the next draft
of the design," she replies, putting things into wording from her own perspective. "Keep
me posted then? I don't have anything pressing scheduled anytime soon."

Jean-Marie says "Do you have a place where we can look at the mirror together? I have
one, but I must clear it with Herr Schallburg."

"Just the loft," she tells him. "My house isn't habitable right now. Repair
people in and out, and some landscaping that has to be done before I can move back in."

Jean-Marie says "Give me a few days? I want to talk to her under controlled
circumstances. And when do you want to have the first meeting of the Orphic Circle?"

Jean-Marie says "And I have to stress -- don't come back to this place alone. I have the
feeling that it was playing with us. If it wants to, it could hurt us very badly."

"Don't worry. I may like excitement and a little danger, but I'm not reckless."
Another long look at the house. "I think you're right. And it would love it. Hurting us.
Oh, as soon as possible, I've been trying to arrange meetings with the interested
parties, get a sense of when might be good. Herding cats. It's a good metaphor."

Jean-Marie says "It is a great metaphor. I am going to go and calm down. I suggest you do
the same--do something non ghostly."

"I'm going to go run." A wave of her hand and she's off. Not a straight line down
the street, she uses walls and lampposts and newspaper bins and anything in the way as
the 'way'. Just another little facet of Caramia Mandalay.

[[Category: RP Logs]]

}}

Rites

Anke — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 17:01:42 GMT

← Older revision		Revision as of 17:01, 5 September 2010
Line 111:		Line 111:
	* First Blood		* First Blood
	* Final Howl		* Final Howl
		+	* Ritual Mind
	* Spirit Brand		* Spirit Brand
	\| '''2'''		\| '''2'''
	* Anticipated Forgiveness		* Anticipated Forgiveness
	* Banish Spirit		* Banish Spirit
		+	* Blessing of the Spirit Hunt
		+	* Call Gaffling
	* Winter's Anguish		* Winter's Anguish
	\| '''3'''		\| '''3'''
Line 237:		Line 240:
	==== Ritual Mind ====		==== Ritual Mind ====
	: (''Lore of the Forsaken'' p. 121)		: (''Lore of the Forsaken'' p. 121)
-	: [[Cameron]], [[Erik]], [[Gabriel]], [[Kai]], [[Mina]], [[Shiloh]]	+	: [[Cameron]], [[Erik]], [[Gabriel]], [[Hanne]], [[Kai]], [[Mina]], [[Shiloh]]

	==== Shared Scent ====		==== Shared Scent ====
Line 262:		Line 265:
	==== Blessing of the Spirit Hunt ====		==== Blessing of the Spirit Hunt ====
	: (''Werewolf: The Forsaken'' p. 152)		: (''Werewolf: The Forsaken'' p. 152)
-	: [[Erik]], [[Shiloh]]	+	: [[Erik]], [[Hanne]], [[Shiloh]]
	==== Call Gaffling ====		==== Call Gaffling ====
	: (''Werewolf: The Forsaken'' p. 153)		: (''Werewolf: The Forsaken'' p. 153)
-	: [[Cameron]], [[Castor]], [[Erik]], [[Gabriel]], [[Martin]], [[Mina]], [[Shiloh]]	+	: [[Cameron]], [[Castor]], [[Erik]], [[Gabriel]], [[Hanne]], [[Martin]], [[Mina]], [[Shiloh]]
	==== Call Human ====		==== Call Human ====
	: (''Werewolf: The Forsaken'' p. 153)		: (''Werewolf: The Forsaken'' p. 153)

Sattriya

Sattriya — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 16:26:10 GMT

← Older revision		Revision as of 16:26, 5 September 2010
Line 118:		Line 118:
	*[[Logs:PrP: Rogue Stalker - Kenneth is Identified]]		*[[Logs:PrP: Rogue Stalker - Kenneth is Identified]]
	*[[Logs:PrP: Rogue Stalker - Byron is Identified]]		*[[Logs:PrP: Rogue Stalker - Byron is Identified]]
		+	*[[Logs:Rogue Stalker - Jutte is Identified]]
	_____________Personal RP Logs___________		_____________Personal RP Logs___________
	*[[Logs:Look What the Wind Blew In]]		*[[Logs:Look What the Wind Blew In]]

Logs:Rogue Stalker - Jutte is Identified

Sattriya — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 16:24:09 GMT

Created page with '{{Log | cast = *Jutte *Sattriya Self and ST | setting = ====== < Waehringer Guertel -- Inner Districts -- Vienna > =================== ====== < ( Security: Bad ) > =====...'

New page

{{Log
| cast = *[[Jutte]]
*[[Sattriya]] Self and ST

| setting = ====== < Waehringer Guertel -- Inner Districts -- Vienna > ===================
====== < ( Security: Bad ) > =================================================

When night falls over the Austrian capital city, the Viennese
'Guertel' puts on its neon make-up. Red neon signs cast an erotic glow on skin
and flesh of girls that move with a certain sway to their steps like only a
practiced streetwalker can. Many cars slow down, their headlights reaching for
the silhouettes of young bodies like ghastly fingers. Stretch-suits, glitter,
stockings and boots; black, blond and red haired Sirens entice those who dare
pass to come join them in their world.

While the trains roll overhead the streets below have become den of
vice with peepshows and go-go bars. The area is made out by the more haughty
Viennese as being a latter day Sodom and Gomorrah with seedy locales and
streets bisecting the brothels like scars; there is violence, drug related
crime and the usual other complimentary accoutrements of red light districts.
The trendy bars rub shoulders with the spit and sawdust establishments, the
clinical meeting the cavernous.

This is the red light district of the worst kind. Joy-girls and boys
sell their wares here, drunks stumble from bar to bar, punks and gangers
openly walk the streets soliciting business from the passing cars for their
drug deals. Lights, glitter, and debauchery, but people seem to be enjoying
themselves, maybe it's just seen as a way to pass the time.

| log = It's /Friday!/ The weekend is here! For people who work the normal office type
hours, this is /the/ day of the week. Or night of the week, in this case, as
ten pm rolls around and the Guertel is a rocking place of activity. Party
goers, junkies, pushers, pimps, hookers, gangers, businessmen of questionable
character -- they're all here. Now you can find almost any vice for sale on
any corner of the street. Neon lights flash distractingly and who knows who
might approach you with something to offer!

Jutte's here with a couple of her boys, parked out on a corner. It's the tall
yellow haired guy with sunglasses that does pretty much all of the business,
with a smile that is to die for. Jutte's just leaning against the wall nearby,
smoking a cigarette and leering at folks who seem more suspect than others.

Nothing untoward, nothing to indicate there's anything wrong, that
there's anything amiss. People mingle here; no one looks at most of them
twice, unless they happen to be the people 'working' on the street. A lot of
the non-denizens are male, of course and range the gamut from young and purdy
to old and perverted. Now and then someone comes by who doesn't stick out like
a sore thumb, but doesn't quite belong, either. Such a one is Sattriya. She
doesn't really 'belong' here, and though she's awfully pretty these days,
she's dressed in her usual one step up from rags. That screams Not-A-Hooker,
as does the almost tangible sense of rage that steams from her. Looking for
something or someone. People get out of her way without even thinking about
it.

There's always one or two that'll take a closer look -- and even offer an
proposed amount to even someone screaming 'Not-A-Hooker' and one like that is
Adam. That'd be the guy dealing right there nearby to Jutte. Armed with a
smile that can get women peeling off their clothes in a flash, the guy is
stepping slightly forward and offering a, "Hey chica, looking for a little
something to help you out tonight?"

Jutte's idly glancing over to see who's caught his attention and then:
double-take. Huh? "The fuck ... Riya?" Blink. Maybe she's got it wrong.

The glare is Medusa quality, and instead of answering, she just opens
her battered jacket to give him a glimpse of a shoulder holster and a
nice-looking Glock butt. She doesn't turn her back on him, but does look over
when Jutte says her name. The voice is the same, the coarse rock-gravel
tumble, even though Jutte's been hard-pressed to be sure 'is she'-'isn't she'.
"Yeah. Me." A shrug, "This be one of yours then? Okay, won't have to mess up
his shiny smile." Some things don't change it seems, including the boulder
Riya carries around on her shoulder in place of a more common chip. "Not here
to get in your bizness, either."

"Girlies gotta gun, guess that means she thinks she can take all of us," Adam
offers with a bit of a grin, and the other guy's stepping up, but Jutte's
waving them off. "Cool down, Adam, she ain't worth it."

Then she's turning, sucking on her cigarette and shrugging her shoulders.
"You're looking pretty fine all the same sister, if I do say so myself ..."
and her look is one that lingers. Yep. "You should be careful about who you go
showing shit to though y'know. Flashing a gun ain't gonna stop six 'bangers
from doing whatever the fuck they want to you."

"Might not," she concedes, not stepping it down much though, "Take one
or two with me on the way. What they have to decide is if they wanna go down
tonight, or just leave me be. Not messing with them, they don't mess with me,
we're all good. Like I said, not here to get in your business, Jutte."

Time... seems to slow down, as if things crawl around the small group.
It's an odd little 'glitch' in perception. Over before it almost began.

Jutte shrugs. "Most of us are ready to go down any night. All it takes is one
creep with an uzi and a desire to use it, maybe a car load of Red Brothers
'round that corner right now, spray the walk with lead and you're fucked." She
shrugs and half turns, more or less separating her and 'Riya from the other
Bloods, but Adam looks on all the same. "Never thought you was here for
fucking business. Just commenting cuz you're ... well fuck, you're hot. There,
I said it." She perhaps shakes off that little twitch in time, lighting
another cigarette and not really giving it another thought.

The look is blank, uncomprehending for a minute or two, until oh hey
light dawns. "Yeah. People keep saying that. Don't see it myself." Oblivious.
She doesn't look for a window to reflect her new 'self', it's like it doesn't
exist to her, at all. "Just wanted to let you know I might be doing a little
prowling around, might step in your territory from time to time. I'm after a
guy likes to cut up whores. Leaves them mostly dead. Someone's got to do it,
and the cops don't care."

There are puddles of shadow around, places in doorways and alleys
where people can lurk, mostly unremarked. A light flicks on in one, it's just
some middle-aged guy lighting a cigarette by appearance.

Between the time that Riya finished, and Jutte might be formulating a
response, between conception and reaction... falls the Shadow. Between them,
blocking Jutte's view of Riya is something big, something dense and thick, and
mottled black and red. It stands upright, but is more lupine than humanoid. A
paw lifts and extends in Jutte's direction while a voice that's molten lead
pours into her brain. <The Devil's Calling, Jutte. He's coming for you. Suffer
not a witch to live.> That last it totally out of keeping with the Hell
Hound's appearance. <Coming to send you to Hell, Evil Bitch. And that thing
you worship isn't going to stop me.>

Then... there's Riya, hand still moving back from dropping the lighter in her
pocket. "I keep forgetting. Set a couple of these on fire. Burnt licorice
sucks."

Jutte's mouth is opening, sure, but then she just pauses. Stops, eyes wide as
she pushing off the wall quick smart, and just as quick as anything else has
her Beretta in hand with barely a blink between an empty hand and a firearm,
pointed at the creature. "Nothing can stop the Darkness," she mutters,
defiantly. "It came /before/."

Then she's frowning, as she's apparently got her gun pointed right at Riya.
Maybe she's offended by licorice. "What the fuck? Did you fucking see that?"
She eyes Riya dubiously. "Or maybe you fucking did that?"

Blank stare, utter innocence. "Do what?" A glance down at the gun,
"Want to put that away, hon? You might get someone with an itchy
trigger-finger taking things the wrong way." She's on alert, but doesn't reach
into her jacket, just shoves the licorice into her mouth a bit further,
chewing contemplatively. "You okay?"

Flashflash, hell hound, Riya, Hell Hound, Riya... Hell HOUND. -I know
what you do, evil bitch.- Flash. Sacrifice. The woman she gave to something
not much different than this is, really. Coming for you. Soon. And then... there's an
almost audible 'pop', the thing is gone, no lingering scent of brimstone or decay or rot.
Just the usual smells of the street. Traffic keeps moving, people keep walking, the man
in the alley grinds out a cigarette and walks away slowly.

Jutte cants her head to one side, eyeing the creature, realizing soon enough
that's it's playing her, trying to rattle her. Unnerve her. So she draws
herself up. "Bring it the fuck on, mother fucker." She plays right on back --
the lazy, unconcerned banger, leaning back up against the wall as she puts her
weapon away, lights another cigarette -- until it seems to be truly gone. Then
she's shaking her head. "Fuck it, Riya, why does shit always get weird when
you're around? Now I gotta figure out how to ... fight this fucking thing
that's maybe after me or what the fuck ever." She's not so unconcerned about
it /now/, that's for sure. Her voice is worried, thoughtful and ... yeah, a
little bit curious.

Adam just looks at Jutte sidelong, and looks back at the other ganger with
him. The look is clearly 'Jutte's gone to her crazy place again, let's just
make sure she doesn't do anything /too/ stupid."

"You been sampling your own goods, hon?" Riya isn't particularly clued
in to what's going on, neither does anyone else seem to be. The message, it is
apparent, was for Jutte alone. "I could toss it backatcha. Things get weird
when you're around." Another push of licorice up into her mouth. "I heard some
stuff. Rumors, mostly. Witch Hunters are out. I heard they want to bring back
the old ways, hunting witches on WahlpurgisNacht. Be careful. Someone might
mistake you for one."

"I don't do any of that shit anymore, Riya," Jutte says with a roll of her
eyes, picking her cigarette up off the ground from where it fell. "Cigarettes
and that's all she wrote. But there was something here. A dog ... thing." She
eyes the other woman for a few long moments. "Witch fucking hunters? You have
got to be fucking kidding me. I'm the woman who cut a bitch for being a
heretic!" Jutte gestures with one arm, shaking her head. "I think maybe that's
irony, or something. But it kinda sounds like what this thing was saying -- I
was gonna go to hell, the Devil was coming for me. Sounds like me a couple
years back."

She is, after all, not normal, a 'broken' thing who gets it when
others talk about their own breaks. A pause, before the last bit of licorice
is inserted and chewed. "I hate this fucking shite," she states, "licorice. It
taste foul." Then, "Sounds like we've both changed some. I don't think we'll
ever be soul sisters, but... keep your back to a wall and watch the doors.
Anyone gonna take you out, it should be me." She flashes a faint, utterly
beautiful smile. Maybe she's teasing. Maybe not.

"More likely gonna be RBN some day of the year, if those pussies get up and
actually do it," Jutte reflects with a shake of her head, "And anyway what the
fuck sister, I always played you straight. 'sides, I didn't know half the shit
then that I know now. Like, I didn't know /anything/ then, and considering how
we first met, I think a little freakout is maybe understandable."

"Yeah. Yeah, the Room did a number on us both. You know it's back?
Been there 3 times again. Same place, different Kings. I could live without
stuff like that. Guess I get to live with it." And with that, she puts herself
into motion, preparing to slide back into the river of people passing by. "See
you around."

"Don't reckon it ever really left, sister," Jutte says easily, shaking her
head a little and taking another drag from her smoke. "Try not to starve."
She's offering a little mock salute and then shaking her head as she leans
across to murmur something at Adam. Soon enough, she's gonna be jumping in her
car nearby and taking off herself!
[[Category: RP Logs]]

}}

Vampire/Ventrue Bloodlines

Livia — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 15:30:42 GMT

Melissidae:

← Older revision		Revision as of 15:30, 5 September 2010
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	'''Weakness:''' In addition to the Ventrue weakness, Melissidae outside the company of their hives feel vulnerable and weak. For each hour a Melissid is separated by 100 yards or more from a member of her hive, a member of her Sire's hive, or another Melissid, she takes a -1 penalty to all Mental dice rolls and rolls to resist fear frenzy.		'''Weakness:''' In addition to the Ventrue weakness, Melissidae outside the company of their hives feel vulnerable and weak. For each hour a Melissid is separated by 100 yards or more from a member of her hive, a member of her Sire's hive, or another Melissid, she takes a -1 penalty to all Mental dice rolls and rolls to resist fear frenzy.

-	'''Character Generation:''' Restricted	+	'''Character Generation:''' Restricted. A handful of Melissidae exist, most of them in the UK or the east cost of the United States. There could be many hidden Queen Bees still sleeping off torpor over the world, however.

	'''Members:'''		'''Members:'''

Maria

Livia — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 15:28:54 GMT

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	[[Category:Ventrue]]		[[Category:Ventrue]]
	[[Category: Invictus]]		[[Category: Invictus]]
		+	[[Category: Melissidae]]

Vampire/Ventrue Bloodlines

Livia — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 15:26:56 GMT

Melissidae:

← Older revision		Revision as of 15:26, 5 September 2010
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	\|-		\|-
	\|		\|
-	'''Description:'''	+	'''Description:''' A handful of Kindred remember the Melissid. Or rather, they remember the destruction of the Melissid back in the late 19th century. They tell stories of vampires vomiting up swarms of wasps, of vampires with a sting given by a brush of the lips that is filled with pain. Of vampires that lived like Queen Bees and of hives that were populated by mortals twisted into near-mindless drones and forced to submit to the hive-mind by a unique power of the blood. Of Queen Bees with vitae sweeter than anything any will ever taste again. It tasted like honey.
		+
		+	They have a lot to remember about their fallen foes, but only vague replies about why the Melissidae were destroyed. The Queen Bees must have done ''something'', as Kindred from all five clans and many covenants and nations each decided, independently of each other, to destroy the Melissidae and their hives. All the same, Kindred who considered themselves rivals enthusiastically pursued the destruction of the Queen Bees, who soon vanished. Now they're a cautionary tale about drone-people and blood like honey.
		+
		+	Some still live however. Their destruction was not entirely complete and even tonight, the Melissidae rule their hives.
		+
		+	In the back of every Melissid's undead mind she feels a chittering, a scratch, a hive-mind beginning to form. The need to grow and control is overpowering, it needs to surround itself with drones and workers. To be alone in her own head fills a Melissid with a sense of panic. The Queen Bees need control. They are surrounded by slaves and they force their herds to be insects, a perfect community imitating an aspect of nature. Melissid believe mortals must behave like this. Occupy their proper place while the vampire occupies hers and harmony will ensue. It's all for their own good.
		+
		+	People need to love each other. The Queen Bees make them love each other. Workers and drones gain authority. The hive is right, the hive is good, the hive is love.
		+
		+	It's a lie, of course. There is no good in the hive. Drones and workers provide for the Queen, their own thoughts and sense of self absent. Nature is not imitated, it is mocked as the mother of the hive is a dead, hungry monster.
		+
		+	The Melissid social experiment is an exercise in sociopathy. It’s not about social concern or about the common good or about love. It’s about control. The irony is that the need for control imprisons the Melissidae. It controls them.

	'''Nickname:''' Queen Bees		'''Nickname:''' Queen Bees

-	'''Covenant:'''	+	'''Covenant:''' Melissidae do not really agree with any of the five major covenants. Melissidae often find it best to keep their bloodline hidden, but it's useful to have allies regardless of this. A reasonable number of Queen Bees have made a showing of joining a covenant because there's safety in numbers, not necessarily because they respect the covenants philosophies. More often than not, this is the Invictus. Strict, stratified social order has some commonality with the Melissid mind. Some may maintain hives that look like a religious community and sometimes these Melissid will find their way to the Lancea Sanctum. A few who make their hives resemble communes or socialist cells might find cover inside the Carthian Movement.
		+
		+	Very few have ever joined the Ordo Dracul or the Circle of the Crone. These covenants have strict ideas about what a vampire should be, and it's difficult for a Melissid to even pretend to have the commitment to that sort of vampiric vision.
		+
		+	Although Elders of all the major covenants contributed to the Melissidae's purge, the Queen Bees don't seem to hold a grudge. Many don't even know about their purge. Their sires didn't think it important to tell them, or they never found out about it until minutes before they were destroyed or forced into torpor.

	'''Bloodline Disciplines:''' Animalism, Auspex, Dominate, Resilience		'''Bloodline Disciplines:''' Animalism, Auspex, Dominate, Resilience
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	\|-		\|-
	!		!
		+
	===Nahuali===		===Nahuali===
	\|-		\|-

Logs:PrP: NYC - Inner Circle

Loewe — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 12:43:04 GMT

Mostly formatting -- easier to read.

Show changes

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	! style="background-color: #000000; color: white; border: 1px solid white" colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Kreuz\|The Weasle]]</center>		! style="background-color: #000000; color: white; border: 1px solid white" colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Kreuz\|The Weasle]]</center>
-	! style="background-color: #000000; color: white; border: 1px solid white" colspan="2" \| <Center>[[~~Adele~~\|~~Memory of Fire~~]]</center>	+	! style="background-color: #000000; color: white; border: 1px solid white" colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Kenneth_Huber\|Human]]</center>
-	! style="background-color: #000000; color: white; border: 1px solid white" colspan="2" \| <Center>[[~~Gabe~~\|~~Fetch~~]]</center>	+	! style="background-color: #000000; color: white; border: 1px solid white" colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Abel_Schrutz\|Stone]]</center>

	\|-		\|-

-	\| style="background-color: #000000"\|[[Image:Kreuz-weezl.jpg\|75px\|Beast, sniffles]]	+	\| style="background-color: #000000"\|[[Image:Kreuz-weezl.jpg\|75px\|Beast, sniffles...]]
	\| style="background-color:#000000; color: white" width="250" \| '''''Coraller'''<br> "You keep coming when he calls...you pull me away back to home. Lets explore once."''		\| style="background-color:#000000; color: white" width="250" \| '''''Coraller'''<br> "You keep coming when he calls...you pull me away back to home. Lets explore once."''
-	\| style="background-color: #000000"\|[[Image:~~Josie1~~.jpg\|75px\|~~Burned Memory~~.]]	+	\| style="background-color: #000000"\|[[Image:Kenneth.jpg\|75px\|One day I'll squeeze the life into you.]]
-	\| style="background-color:#000000; color: white" width="250" \| '''''~~Phoenix~~'''<br> "~~A distant memory~~...~~or many a dream from another life. A phoenix rising from the ashes~~."''	+	\| style="background-color:#000000; color: white" width="250" \| '''''Geists Human'''<br> "Scared of snakes...thanks. V_V"''
-	\| style="background-color: #000000"\|[[Image:~~Gabe19~~.jpg\|75px\|~~growls~~]]	+	\| style="background-color: #000000"\|[[Image:Abel_Mien_Face.jpg\|75px\|Woah...friends first?]]
-	\| style="background-color:#000000; color: white" width="250" \| '''''~~Fetch~~'''<br> "~~Just you wait, my precious~~..."''	+	\| style="background-color:#000000; color: white" width="250" \| '''''Big'''<br> "I'll help where I can..."''

	\|-		\|-
	\|}		\|}

← Older revision		Revision as of 07:31, 6 September 2010
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	\| width="250" \| ''Alpha[http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=528 .]''		\| width="250" \| ''Alpha[http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=528 .]''
	\| [[File:Gennshadow5.jpg\|link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8OOWcsFj0U\|I know you've suffered but I don't want you to hide\|75px]]		\| [[File:Gennshadow5.jpg\|link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R8OOWcsFj0U\|I know you've suffered but I don't want you to hide\|75px]]
-	\| width="250" \| ''Prey is the best friend ~~Lives~~-~~Outside~~ has.''	+	\| width="250" \| ''Prey is the best friend Wolf-Star has.''
	\|-		\|-
	! colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Leka]]</center>		! colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Leka]]</center>
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	\| width="250" \| ''"But I think we do be-llllong to-geth-rrrr. Moon and stars. And even if we werrren't made to go togetherrr, we do now."''		\| width="250" \| ''"But I think we do be-llllong to-geth-rrrr. Moon and stars. And even if we werrren't made to go togetherrr, we do now."''
	\| [[File:Baron79.jpg\|link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZweDwbJ_Ic\|Sometimes, broken edges match.\|75px]]		\| [[File:Baron79.jpg\|link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZweDwbJ_Ic\|Sometimes, broken edges match.\|75px]]
-	\| width="250" \| ''~~[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqds0B_meys I saw. I was]. I am still here~~.''	+	\| width="250" \| ''It would be like trying to explain the sun.''
	\|-		\|-
	! colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Vera]]</center>		! colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Vera]]</center>
-	! colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Liam~~\|Liam/Silas~~]]</center>	+	! colspan="2" \| <Center>[[Liam]]</center>
	\|-		\|-
	\| [[File:Vera8.jpg\|link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3YmaADISlo\|75px]]		\| [[File:Vera8.jpg\|link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3YmaADISlo\|75px]]
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	\|-		\|-
	\| [[File:Khoo.jpg\|75px]]		\| [[File:Khoo.jpg\|75px]]
-	\| width="250" \| ''~~Don~~'t ~~need 'sorry~~.~~' Don~~'t ~~want~~ '~~sorry~~.~~' Don~~'t want to ~~sit around being sad. Want help~~.''	+	\| width="250" \| ''I think you're going away and I can't do anything about it. I don't believe it's Fate. I just don't think you want to stop.''
	\| [[File:AlfonsMien.jpg\|75px]]		\| [[File:AlfonsMien.jpg\|75px]]
	\| width="250" \| ''threat display''		\| width="250" \| ''threat display''

← Older revision		Revision as of 02:18, 6 September 2010
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	* [[Liam]] is a drug supplier, working with [[Jocelyn]] and [[Tadgh]], and occasionally deals directly. Rather than the most notorious narcotic addictives on the street, hwoever, he's in the business of prime quality '''magic mushrooms'''. They're available wet, as is legal in Austria, but also (less legally~) dry for consumption and resale. Want to '''trip some balls'''? Hit him up. ([http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psilocybin_mushroom en.Wiki article on psilocybin mushrooms here])		* [[Liam]] is a drug supplier, working with [[Jocelyn]] and [[Tadgh]], and occasionally deals directly. Rather than the most notorious narcotic addictives on the street, hwoever, he's in the business of prime quality '''magic mushrooms'''. They're available wet, as is legal in Austria, but also (less legally~) dry for consumption and resale. Want to '''trip some balls'''? Hit him up. ([http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psilocybin_mushroom en.Wiki article on psilocybin mushrooms here])
	* Every other vampire PC volunteers their vant to suck your blood, but Changelings '''feed off emotions'''-- Liam's particular subtype goes for incarnations of ''desire'' and his favorites include '''food cravings and curiosity'''. Sounds like trouble, doesn't it? If you ain't scared of trouble, hit me up to acquire a faerie-shaped devil on your character's shoulder.		* Every other vampire PC volunteers their vant to suck your blood, but Changelings '''feed off emotions'''-- Liam's particular subtype goes for incarnations of ''desire'' and his favorites include '''food cravings and curiosity'''. Sounds like trouble, doesn't it? If you ain't scared of trouble, hit me up to acquire a faerie-shaped devil on your character's shoulder.
-	* Liam ~~recently~~ '''joined the Court of Spring''' and ~~is still finding his sea legs. He~~ is currently the [[Changeling/Freehold/Healers\|Minister of Relief]], organizer of the '''various healers and medical services''' available. He got knighted to do it, too, which was. Weird. And has a rather weighty feel of obligation to it.	+	* Liam '''joined the Court of Spring''' and is currently the [[Changeling/Freehold/Healers\|Minister of Relief]], organizer of the '''various healers and medical services''' available. He got knighted to do it, too, which was. Weird. And has a rather weighty feel of obligation to it. Sometimes [[Charlotte\|Queen Charlotte]] delegates him further responsibility. Hit him up if you need a band-aid stuck on, or directions on who to go to with a particular problem.
	* He does some Hedgespinning, so if you need something made, he would probably be morbidly interested in helping out.		* He does some Hedgespinning, so if you need something made, he would probably be morbidly interested in helping out.
	* He also '''works''' at both [[The Sofia Halls]], a ''super'' classy concert hall, and The [[Serpent's Garden]], a high-class brothel, as '''a lowly bartender'''. You can come and tell him about your problems! Or tell him about his problems! And maybe you'll get punched in the dick once he clocks out, and be privvy to excessive amounts of drink mixing prose.		* He also '''works''' at both [[The Sofia Halls]], a ''super'' classy concert hall, and The [[Serpent's Garden]], a high-class brothel, as '''a lowly bartender'''. You can come and tell him about your problems! Or tell him about his problems! And maybe you'll get punched in the dick once he clocks out, and be privvy to excessive amounts of drink mixing prose.
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	\|-		\|-
	\| width="50%" style="background-color:#69a673; color: white; vertical-align: middle" \|		\| width="50%" style="background-color:#69a673; color: white; vertical-align: middle" \|
-	'''Hedgebeast Companion (Ladybug):''' ~~[[File:Dot-filled.png\|10px]]~~[[File:Dot-filled.png\|10px]] ''a sassy old man who happens to have--''	+	'''Hedgebeast Companion (Ladybug):''' [[File:Dot-filled.png\|10px]] '''''Watson''' is a sassy old man who happens to have--''
	* '''Common Sense''': [[File:Dot-filled.png\|10px]][[File:Dot-filled.png\|10px]][[File:Dot-filled.png\|10px]][[File:Dot-filled.png\|10px]] ''--which Liam is otherwise lacking, and''		* '''Common Sense''': [[File:Dot-filled.png\|10px]][[File:Dot-filled.png\|10px]][[File:Dot-filled.png\|10px]][[File:Dot-filled.png\|10px]] ''--which Liam is otherwise lacking, and''
	* '''Barfly''': [[File:Dot-filled.png\|10px]] ''BETTER THAN YELP.COM''.		* '''Barfly''': [[File:Dot-filled.png\|10px]] ''BETTER THAN YELP.COM''.

-	\| width="50%" style="background-color:#69a673; color: white; vertical-align: middle" \|	+	\| width="50%" style="background-color:#69a673; color: white; vertical-align: middle; padding-left: 10px" \|
	'''Crafts:''' [[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]]* (''Perfume, Hedgespinning'')		'''Crafts:''' [[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]]* (''Perfume, Hedgespinning'')
	<br>'''Manipulation + Persuasion:''' Main source o' Glamour collection.* (''Seduction'')		<br>'''Manipulation + Persuasion:''' Main source o' Glamour collection.* (''Seduction'')
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	'''Burden of Life:''' [[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]] ''packs a punch in a pinch''<br>		'''Burden of Life:''' [[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]] ''packs a punch in a pinch''<br>
	'''Healing Sacrifice:''' [[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]] ''is a shitload of healing''<br>		'''Healing Sacrifice:''' [[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]] ''is a shitload of healing''<br>
-	\| width="50%" style="background-color:#69a673; color: white; vertical-align: middle" \|	+	\| width="50%" style="background-color:#69a673; color: white; vertical-align: middle; padding-left: 10px" \|
	'''Mantle (Spring):''' [[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]]		'''Mantle (Spring):''' [[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]]
	<br>'''Wyrd:''' [[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]]		<br>'''Wyrd:''' [[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]][[Image:Dot-filled.png \|10px]]
	\|-		\|-
	\|}		\|}