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  1. Earlier
  2. Rhyse Falmarin

    The Great Ocean Escape

    It matters. It matters if it makes money, or secures power. Head shook gently….. she didn’t want either of those things and yet somehow she was dropped in a game where both were needed to survive. Ireland wants its little corner of normal and screw everyone else. New York swallows Outworlders... and altered. Someone can be L-infected and fight in the middle of a cage in front of thousands of people and be cheered on by the masses. Or, an unusual magus can be sought for hire as a bodyguard…horrific powers and all. New York embraces the different if there’s something to be made from it. She was blinking at him a bit dumbfounded. There was no place like that…… was there? She found it absurd that there could be a part of the world so open to accepting the changed…. the outworlders. The mist of a frown tickled her brow. Even in such a place, she doubted she would be so readily accepted in the demon form that itched just under her skin even now. If the people of this world… are intent on slaughtering you… then you slaughter them back. ….that is the problem…. The thick accent still husked in her soft tone, eyes distracted on the map he had rolled up. ….I can slaughter them back. The quiet statement had an ominous ring as she let it hang out there with nothing more said. The crimson eyes met the flick that came her way with a steady honesty, silence lingering as he moved once more to scan the channels on the radio. The silence let the ocean whisper back at them as it lapped against the outer hull. I can pass but I refuse to allow those that can't to be terrorized. If anyone threatens my passengers they will die… regardless of any horrific powers. Anyone attacks my passengers and crew, they will die. Brow quirked at the "white knight" persona that crept into his words. She hadn't really thought he would be. Tilt of her head slid the peach waves along the dark navy. …. I don’t….pass….…… not always….. The tone had a matter of fact cadence, it didn’t have a shame that one might expect. It was just… a fact. As a light extinguished overhead, pupils flushed out wide in the crimson irises, far wider than seemed normal. The violent adjustment to light changes let the water creature adapt quickly to low light, seeing more in the dark than most animals that hunted in the night. Not my place to judge, only protect. That’s what Mr. Caranthir sought me out for. Sometimes the most passable have the worst secrets. She watched him pick up the glasses, studying the unsaid more than the said. He was an odd one, that fought so hard to find his harmony with this world's waters, a fight that was likely causing the disharmony. If you’re restless, I could use another set of eyes on the horizon. St. John has been safe in the past, but things change. She watched the caution, the way he resonated communication through the hull of his ship. Sound was the ultimate way to communicate beneath the watery undulations as well. Glasses were picked up and studied, long fingers that preferred baking to slaughter flipped them over several times before peering through them to see what he saw. It was strange, as it focused the view closer it felt like she saw less, the area that could be studied in the window restricted compared to the natural eye, even if it was closer. She watched with him a moment before the silence was barely broken. …. mine didn’t have so much land…. The quiet reference clearly indicating her own world.
  3. Darius Kayne

    Countdown Begins...

    With his mouth agape, Darius looked around in absolute awe. For this first time in years, words failed him and all he could do was attempt to drink in the magnificent sight around him. His eyes darted around the arena four times over before even realizing that somebody was talking to him. With a deep breath, he finally managed to form a sentence. Now this... this is a masterpiece. Are you the genius behind all of this? As he approached, he took great care not to touch anything, well aware that just about anything in the arena could be enchanted with unforeseen defenses and dangers. He couldn’t help but question why Pharos was helping with this at all. Bakkhos seemed pretty set on defenses, and as exciting as the contents of that briefcase were, it was unlike Pharos to beat a dead horse like this. Or in this case, arming a already heavily armed horse. Perhaps there was some sort of deal going on between the higher ups about. That was most likely the case, at least, making Darius one of their oblivious pawns yet again. Such a thought would normally slap a scowl onto his face, but this time, he felt like a spoiled little boy on a Christmas morning. He may be a pawn, but this lucky pawn wouldn’t have rather rather been anywhere else. The sound of approaching footsteps snapped him out of his thoughts for the second time. He looked up to see a familiar face approaching. That man… the poster… could it be? No matter, he decided to push the thought aside for now. No matter who it was, he was bound to be impressed by what he was about to see. “Tom Gallo, pleased to meet you.” Darius accepted the handshake with a charming grin and a hearty nod. Darius Kayne, at your service! He gave his briefcase a firm pat to draw attention to it. Just in time for the fireworks, I see. I don’t think any of us wanna have to active this bad boy after today. You two are the lucky few to get an exclusive demonstration... and hopefully the only demonstration.
  4. Calder Muireadach

    Fae Fury is coming......

    He sat in the pilot house... cold towel on the back of his neck, literally half naked; no shoes, no shirt, boat shorts barely on his hips, hair in Mohawk twist and off his neck. This heat, was killing him. He would have been below deck, but it was worse there. Stifling. Humid. He could barely breathe, questioning his entire decision to do this. The sun though... the sun was the bastard that needed to die. They were early. Really early. The storm that had been predicted to batter what was once Florida and threaten to halt them in Georgia for a week minimum had taken a sharp turn into the gulf, enabling him to ride right behind it. Daring, but that's what he did. It was odd for a storm to take such a drastic turn, something was up with the weather, he could feel a cold nipping at their heels- but for now he was in tropical hell, still unaware the same storm that let them arrive quicker had burst into snow in the gulf and was battering the entire central land mass with flurries and white-outs. There was also talk of someone on his tail, and he wanted to lose their asses. He would deal with them on the return when he didn't have a boatload of terrified Outworlders. Word traveled fast, and not in a good way sometimes; he'd almost had to leave a few behind. They were restless, his insistence on them staying below deck and out of sight was a firm one. It was uncomfortable, not ideal, but it kept them safe from whatever they may still encounter. They were on the coast and coast meant they could be seen unlike on open water. He didn't come this far to lose them now. He also didn't come this far to die of heat exhaustion either. This would be the make or break moment, learning as much about where and who he was dropping them off to as the fae seemed to know about him. It still reeked of servitude. Hopefully, it wasn't. Head perked up slightly, watching the mouth of the river. Bare feet on the bridge, he stood quietly from his chair and put the boat at full stop to kill the engines, coasting quietly into the mouth of the river. High trees and a few ridges on either side as far as the eye could see. He didn't like the vulnerable position, but they really had no choice. The dock was less than a half mile in- at the point where his boat could go no further. They would be trapped, and alone. His crew were stationed at key points, armed, and waiting for a hint of something to shoot. He hated guns, but they were necessary in certain situations. This was one of them. Boat was completely silent save for the lap of the water on the hull. An occasional screech from an exotic bird that didn't heed the instinctual silence from the rest at the strangers' trespassing brought muzzles up and his eyes toward the fluttering green foliage. Barely anyone breathed as he steered to a coast with precision, looking for someone on the dock ready to throw a line. Do or die time.
  5. Boone (Paddy) Fitzpatrick


    *SMOOCHES* cause I can!
  8. Guest

    The Marked

    Index | Plot | Rules | Races | Advertise
  9. Calder Muireadach

    The Great Ocean Escape

    Not the water….. Pressed lips didn’t betray the inner seethe. ….the people of this world….ten years and they still slaughter what they do not recognize…… Jaw set slightly. It nicked a little too close to the bone. Would he have been as tolerant if others had slid into his world? No. The answer was immediate. He would not have. He would have slaughtered anyone he did not recognize… and this was his hell for it. The ocean was lost to him. His family, his kingdom. He was being punished. And now? He was ferrying the very same people he would have gutted if they had set foot on his own lands. ….acquaintance….. Quiet eyes blinked himself back into the present, watching his own fingers trace across the map as if he was assuring himself this life would make up for the last. He was being watched. He didn’t like being watched, the loose, still-damp cascade of hair was pulled high on his skull and secured into a topknot with some technic lost on this planet. That is all they care about isn't it….. Blink again at her was slow, his finger tapping once on South America before reaching to adjust the volume on the radio. It was silent. Just as it should be. No chatter. No ships. I don’t care what they care about. It doesn’t matter the horrific power one might wield…. just that they can "pass"… He rolled up one map, sliding it into the shelf under the table as he pulled out another; a much more detailed version of where they were currently traveling. Nothing was said for a moment, plotting their position quietly. Again the nip at his throat. She wasn’t doing it on purpose; there was no way she could have known. It matters. It matters if it makes money, or secures power. Ireland wants its little corner of normal and screw everyone else. New York swallows Outworlders... and altered. Someone can be L-infected and fight in the middle of a cage in front of thousands of people and be cheered on by the masses. Or, an unusual magus can be sought for hire as a bodyguard…horrific powers and all. New York embraces the different if there’s something to be made from it. Voice was quiet, intent on his work but circling back to something she’d said earlier as he checked their course. If the people of this world… are intent on slaughtering you… then you slaughter them back. Eyes flicked up at her a moment, clearly incensed at this world's insistence on playing nice before turning to scan the channels on the radio. They were all silent. A few more hours and he would radio in to the port. If there was chatter he would have to investigate first before coming in. I can pass but I refuse to allow those that can't to be terrorized. If anyone threatens my passengers they will die… regardless of any horrific powers. Anyone attacks my passengers and crew, they will die. Matter of fact and without any sign of apprehension, the dark words remained quiet... as easy as breathing. He reached up and turned off one of the main overhead lights, much less harsh now that he didn’t need it to read the chart. It also helped keep the ship less visible in case of any other travelers. Rare and unlikely, but flirting with fate never ended well. Not my place to judge, only protect. That’s what Mr. Caranthir sought me out for. Sometimes the most passable have the worst secrets. Like himself, he finally divulged. He drew in a long breath, realizing he’d crossed his arms and was staring aimlessly at the invisible horizon in the direction they were headed. Picking up a set of glasses, he scanned the horizon. Coming in always put everyone on high alert. They were still in no-man’s land. If you’re restless, I could use another set of eyes on the horizon. St. John has been safe in the past, but things change. He nodded toward another set of glasses on the shelf near the door, clicking through the channels again and rapping a pattern on the ceiling to communicate with his first mate up in the captain’s chair. No unnecessary radio this close to land. Morse code. Another weird little thing he’d learned in this world…
  10. Guest

    Land of Sunshine

    HOME ::: RULES ::: SHIPPER APP ::: FAQ ::: DISCORD Land of Sunshine is a Player driven site. A big sandbox of possibilities that we hope to throw in some events and hang ups along the way. The city of Santa Cruz, California is where it's based. Beach life; endless dreams to grow or be popped, it all depends on you as the player. Real Life, no Word count, Basic Shipper App, Sandbox based in Santa Cruz California. Jcink Premium, mature board. Optional Arranged Marriage System available. No app review process, ask us about it!
  11. Brandon Valosa

    Lifting Spirits

    June 12th, 2021 8:22 pm Oak & Henge Tavern, Omenwich Square The clouds above Broadway hung dark and heavy as Brandon made his way down the busy sidewalk. He threaded through the crowd pulling the collar of his blue jacket up against a chill that really wasn’t there. The air was getting cooler though as a storm moved in blocking off the sun enough that the shop lights glistened off the wet pavement. He took in a deep breath as he glanced over at an old-style tavern sign, “Just the place,” he muttered to himself as he moved through the crowd and walked into the Oak & Henge. The door closed behind him as Brandon took in the aroma if old wood and aged spirits. There was something special about the place, mysterious and yet inviting that lured him further into the establishment. He let the door close behind him as he nodded to a man that passed to exit and he made his way towards the tavern’s bar. Brandon had found employment though it wasn’t with the police force. He was earning a steady wage though the work was hard and didn’t require him to use much of his intelligence. The structural restoration company was consistent with hours though it was on a contract basis. He was tearing down walls and helping to rebuild them, restoring old buildings and battered housing. He still was living in a Hostel though unsure how stable it would be. at least he could afford three meals a day, a pint or two and a better wardrobe. The man sat down on a wooden stool absently running the tips of his fingers along the smooth wooden edge as many patrons before he had. He drew in a deep breath and offered a smile to the man behind the raised counter.
  12. Darius Kayne

    Just Another Day at the Office....

    You fuck ups wanted first calls for these damn things. THAT’S why you got called. No one fuckin' begging for your ass to be here. My "incompetent" cops DIED containing that thing from being unleashed on the city and its citizens. So you can go fuck yourself and get the hell out of MY crime scene. It took about 30 seconds for the words to sink in. He stormed back across the warehouse on the cusp between denial and anger. For a second he stopped to look back, entertaining the thought of putting up a fight for a second chance. As the hammer broke free, though, he whirled back around and continued his walk of shame. She asked for this. Her own damn fault when she blows herself to bits... Try as he might, he couldn’t deny it that he’d fucked up. Stupid stupid stupid… how much of an idiot could he be? He’d dealt with people in that kind of mindset before, and he’d dealt with them flawlessly. Why did this time - the one time he actually had something to prove - have to be the exception? It’s not like he was a stranger to mistakes, but this time he had no Catalina or Thorne to save his ass. This was it - his decisions had consequences, and this one had caught up with him already. If only Catalina was there - she would have known what do. By now, she would have the hammer wrapped up in a box, neatly tied with a cherry on top. Who knows what Thorne would have done, but at least the guy would have known what he was doing. Was he even altered? Either way, he would have had a number of words for Darius - none of them pleasant. Didn’t help his case one bit. Catalina, on the other hand, would at least have some words of wisdom about all this. There’s nothing to prove yapping and whimpering every time someone slaps you on the wrist. It’s easy. Just dodge the punches until the enemy lets its guard down, then strike. You’re an opportunist, Darius. Embrace it. Yes. That was exactly what she would have said. And she wasn’t wrong in the slightest. This battle wouldn’t be over for him until Darius left that warehouse for good, and that certainly wouldn’t be happening until he was either dead, arrested, or successful in the mission. Seiko and the police force weren’t remotely equipped for dealing with this artifact on their own, and the Order had at least a reasonable drive to get to the warehouse. There was always a chance for a new opportunity to arise. An opportunist could never just abandon hope like that. In the meantime, Seiko was at the mercy of Pharos and the hammer. NPC: Are you just gonna stand there, or are we gonna get the fuck outta here? Darius whirled around, glaring at Sirius. Who do you think I am, leaving a mission unfinished? NPC: Seriously? You really think you can get away with disob…. Before he could finish, Darius interrupted, crisply and clearly. Don’t test me. It’s in your best interest to obey your goddamn orders. Make yourself useful and get ahold of some sort of kinetic vacuum artifact - that’ll give us some protection at least. Before saying another word to further piss off Darius, Sirius left the room to make his way to the vehicles. In the meantime, Darius barely dodged the hammer, ducking under a pile of rubble just in time. As he looked up, he saw an unfamiliar face in the mix, and quite nearby, too. How did that stranger get into the room without anyone noticing? Did he have something to do with the loose artifact? “Who am I talking to? What have you tried?” As the hammer launched itself back across the room, he stood up, taking a step towards the stranger. He snapped his fingers for the man’s attention. Hey! You! Yeah, you! Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing here? The name’s Kayne, and it’s awfully suspicious of you, just popping up out of nowhere on a crime scene. You’d better have some answers for me right now. He watched the man distrustfully, ready to leap out of the way should he need to, all the while keeping a keen eye on the stranger’s every movement.
  13. Rhyse Falmarin

    The Great Ocean Escape

    "Why?" It was a loaded question that drove her to cast crimson orbs another time to the briny deep. “....seems like the water controls you, because you think too much.” Not the water….. She easily corrected his matter of fact delivery. The unnerving gaze slid once more to the captain of the vessel. A sharpness to the pupils that still undulated with the connection to the ocean waters. ….the people of this world….ten years and they still slaughter what they do not recognize…… There was a thick scar on her thigh, a third of one of her oceanid tendrils missing that spoke of this slaughter. In the form the water gave her, the people had nothing but a raging need to rend her limb from limb…… they had nearly succeeded more than once. Eyes slid around the deck to the small crew - wondering which would start the battle cry if the "demon" was suddenly unleashed on their deck. Collar again was lifted to dry the salty moisture as it taunted her blood, the blue veins just under her skin beginning to peek through the pale skin. “Got a towel for you, the others below deck aren’t dry yet from cleaning your friend’s last round of festivities.” ….acquaintance….. It wasn’t the first time the soft correction had been made. She wasn’t sure what to call the man that now seemed content to sleep the entire trip away. Turning away from the crew and open waters, she followed him down the stairs, hitting the bottom in time to take a towel from the bench to wipe over her head and face. “St. John. Quiet, sympathetic friends there. Cruise ship sank right here, I buoyed it on my last run. It shifted during the time I was gone and the buoy moved, tore the hull on the stack. We were anchored for a few days while I fixed it, that’s why we were late. Docked in St. John instead of open water and I can do it properly.” Eyes followed his fingers, tracing the coastal lines with the recognition of a sailor, noting bays, peninsulas, places that were likely deep…. likely shallow. The land said much about the waters that caressed it. “We stop here, this is where I live. I wait for enough that want to go south and then I make this run. A lot stay in New York, they can blend in with the magus. The more physically unique usually decide to seek refuge with the Fanya Niasa, Durion Caranthir has a particular protective nature. It’s isolated, and he is able to find ways for them to live comfortably and make a life.” Her eyes followed the entire "story". It was an undulating southern route. Pupils lifted to him when his gaze moved to blades on the wall, tracing their markings with a faintly raised brow before returning her attention on him. “I can pass, so I do what I can to get people where they need to go. I'll get you where you need to go.” She was quiet as she studied his expression. That was the rub of it wasn’t it…. passing. That is all they care about isn't it….. Shoulder leaned against the wall as arms folded over the chest that didn’t bite of cold but instead panged with longing for another place…. a very different place…... It doesn’t matter the horrific power one might wield…. just that they can "pass"…
  14. Guest

    Moonlight Cocktail

    ( home) x ( canon list ) x ( registry act ) x ( wanted ads ) x ( discord ) Moonlight Cocktail: where will you stand?
  15. Calder Muireadach

    The Great Ocean Escape

    The once upon a time prince was an intuitive one. He had to be, nuances caught in the tone of her words. Had she expected he’d understand her language? No. She’d hoped he would. He knew what it felt like. Being an outworlder was disorienting and cruel, but most often lonely. He didn’t know how to fix that, for himself or anyone. She looked at the water the way he did, but could control it… still shielding herself from it as if it was poison. He’d never heard of such a thing, eyes narrowing slightly and pausing partially into his descent, watching her wipe more water away. I don’t get wet…… The melancholy had pushed aside for a moment, replaced with a cautious curiosity. “Why?” he asked quietly, hand paused on the overhead before he was going to duck under into his hidey-hole chart room. It was the eyes that finally made him put all the pieces together. Humanoids on his world didn’t have eyes like that, and this wasn’t his first rodeo with people that had an affinity for water. There were all kinds, and all shapes, and all types of powers. Terrible and mystical. Brow cocked slightly, “seems like the water controls you, because you think too much.” The statement wasn’t a question, it was a fact delivered with a nonchalance she may not have been used to. Observation turned back to business. “Got a towel for you, the others below deck aren’t dry yet from cleaning your friend’s last round of festivities.” He descended the few steps after ducking the edge of the bridge, clicking on a radio and turning the volume lower, pulling several towels out from a footlocker in the corner and tossing them on the bench near the stairs if she chose to partake. He kept a steady supply to wipe the windows when they fogged on the inside during this weather. Light was clicked on over his workspace, eyes wandering over the chart a moment. Morning. They’d be there by morning. St. John was a safe place, but they hadn’t been there in a while. Less stops meant a faster run, less gas, less chance to be followed or tracked. Staying hidden in open ocean was easy. Hopping ports was predictable. He wouldn’t have done it unless it was necessary. “St. John,” he put his finger on the chart. “Quiet, sympathetic friends there.” Finger slid back to the coast of Ireland. “Cruise ship sank right here, I buoyed it on my last run. It shifted during the time I was gone and the buoy moved, tore the hull on the stack. We were anchored for a few days while I fixed it, that’s why we were late. Docked in St. John instead of open water and I can do it properly.” Hand brushed over New York. “We stop here, this is where I live. I wait for enough that want to go south and then I make this run,” he traced down to South America. “A lot stay in New York, they can blend in with the magus. The more physically unique usually decide to seek refuge with the Fanya Niasa, Durion Caranthir has a particular protective nature. It’s isolated, and he is able to find ways for them to live comfortably and make a life.” Eyes moved over his blades on the wall behind the small seats and went back to the charts. “I can pass, so I do what I can to get people where they need to go. I'll get you where you need to go.” The implication was ominous. He didn't just 'do what he could', he did whatever was necessary, without question- and most of the time it included clearing the way, in a bloody fashion.
  16. Rhyse Falmarin

    The Great Ocean Escape

    She had such a flash of hope. Even his skin held the cool bite of a water dweller like herself. And yet there was no recognition of her words, of the ocean's nature on this world. Maybe he was more of an elemental of some kind…. or a magus. She was suddenly even lonelier than she had been every day before. He glowered at her. There was a hate there for what she could pull from this world's ocean and now she understood it was because he tried and couldn’t pull the same. He thought too much. Thinking fought against every ebb and flow of the waters here. It had to be pure instinct, without thought, it had to be as natural as breathing. “This water needs to start doing what it’s told,” Ears itched against the language that had some of the same harsh tones as her own but still felt so foreign. He was angry with the water so it spite him. Her own gaze moved from his scowl to the dark waters. It was there, for the very briefest breath of a moment… a longing for the touch of the wild wet thunder. Blue ghosted just under the surface of her neck, veins undulating a moment as her form tingled at the mist that was seeping into her skull from the water avalanche of her own doing. Much more moisture on her skin and……… “Be dark soon, it’s going to get colder, we’re shifting north slightly. Might want to find some more warm layers if you’re going to be out here.” Head shook as the collar of the coat was pulled up over her ears, wiping away moisture that trickled at her cheekbone. I don’t get wet…… It was barely audible and made absolutely no sense considering what she had just pulled off. It was her turn to scowl. As hands shoved into her pockets the longing gaze stole a fraction of a glance back to the undulating waters before snapping around to head downstairs herself. Staying above deck was asking for a revelation she had not made in nearly five years. She needed a towel… maybe a bed.
  17. Calder Muireadach

    The Great Ocean Escape

    SoH 'Iv? Eyes narrowed, one hand snatched by the passenger but the other low on his back with a blade already out and inverted against the inside of his wrist. He somehow knew she’d be strong, the little things always were. Calm ones, quiet ones; they were always those with the most bite. veHHeHDaj DaSov'a'? The language was lost on him, and when she let go the blade was placed none-the-wiser back into its sheath under his sweater. She probably would have no idea how close she’d come to becoming a Pez dispenser. People didn’t touch him. He didn’t like to be touched if he didn't know someone. It was the only outward sign he couldn’t control that he wasn’t "normal". Skin, much cooler than a human and couldn’t be explained away. To her though, he’d not divulged a thing. For all she knew he was a magus. ….you think too much….. That brought an uncharacteristic scowl from his features. Bullshit. HoS lughoStaHvIS… He didn’t watch the water, he watched her. He’d seen waves, storms, the heave of water off the beach out to sea as he’d pulled a wave in so severe it’d decimated cities. His fist, his fury. He used it to conquer the world. It wasn’t new to him. What was, was that he wasn’t doing it. The impotence was wearing him thin. Eyes closed to shield off the waterfall, peering upward through wet lashes, the seethed sigh annoyed as he glowered back at her. ..this water doesn’t like lots of thinking….. “This water needs to start doing what it’s told,” the grumble was under his breath. “Jhuh xeinv ftuh ih’j hej…” His smooth, yet percussive language was cast toward the dark waters with a spite he wasn’t going to explain. “Be dark soon, it’s going to get colder, we’re shifting north slightly. Might want to find some more warm layers if you’re going to be out here.” A calm had come again over his countenance, moving to retreat to the room under the bridge. He could still see everything the first mate saw from the bridge, its recess underneath just gave him a place to eat on his own, and his personal items were there. An apartment so to speak, but it wasn't where he slept. He relished it there when his crew was asleep, only a few tending to the job and an insane silence over the black water except for the hum of the engine. It was also the home of his toys when he didn’t feel like playing with anyone. These two were going to annoy him until the end, if not from anything else but pure jealousy. He wanted more of his hot chocolate too, but in all honesty... he was just too melancholy to deal with anyone at the moment.
  18. Guest

    Feles, a warriors rp!

    [align=center] Home. Rules & Guides. Advertise. Feles is a warrior cats role play, with anywhere from intermediate to advanced role players. We have four Clans you can join, WillowClan, MossClan, EmberClan, and AshClan. Feles has a forty word minimium count, but many find it very easy to achieve. We have been open for about a month now, and would love to see you be apart of our community! [/align]
  19. Thomas Gallo

    Countdown Begins...

    Tom had entered the private viewing box that Gaspari and other VIPs would occupy at Satyr. He had come to Satyr to double-check the chain of custody of booze coming from Thyrsus to Satyr, to ensure that the serial poisoner of his wares had not wormed their way into the supply chain to Satyr. His inspection had proven this supply chain to be clean, however others he had thought were good had turned out to have some poison bottles slipped into the shipments. This was taking too long. Tom had been forced to take more calls of disgruntled clients as they were no longer being satisfied with Roderick fielding the calls. Tom had dispatched soldiers to supervise shipments to several of the clients. Of those that were supervised, none were tampered with. This poisoner was subtle, observant, and worst of all...intelligent. Tom didn't have the manpower to babysit every shipment from now to eternity...he needed to squash this bug. It was time to bring in the rest of the family. Tom took a moment to take in the spectacle of the arena from the VIP box. It was impressive. Quite impressive. He didn't understand the intricacies of the enchantments and magical augmentation to the cages and barriers. He let out a resigned growl as he was certain that he'd be the one to 'test' some of them. Matteo got a sick sort of pleasure in Tom's discomfort. Not malevolent...as far as Tom could tell...it reminded him of brothers enjoying each other's trivial trials. Ass. Tom stepped out of the box and started walking down the stairs toward where he saw Tom and some other man speaking. He suspected him to be another mage or some such. As he got closer, he called down to the two men. "Come now. You didn't have to do all this for little ol' me." Tom smirked at Matteo before extending a hand to the other man. "Tom Gallo, pleased to meet you."
  20. Rhyse Falmarin

    The Great Ocean Escape

    Her eyes were locked on his as she watched the shifting flickers behind them with a blink of surprise. He was more than a captain. He had a love…. and hate… for these ocean waters. There was a tensing in her gut as he hopped up onto the rail, perched on it as she could, ebbing and flowing with the movement of the ship. She had not seen that in other sailors of this world. Blink was potent. He was not of this world. She had noticed the strange tattoos and had guessed as much earlier. But now, seeing the way he could feel the water and its motion. She wondered………. She didn’t breathe as she watched him call to it and it teased a response. Eyes flew open as he jumped down. The ocean was bating him, teasing him. And he was frustrated. “It doesn't work. It can’t be tamed. I've tried." Could it be? Was she not alone? Had another from BaS qIj made this horrible journey?He was moving to pass her, to retreat below. He was frustrated. The water teased and he was frustrated. She ignored the beckoning of food. His hand was snatched as he pushed by, the slip of a girl was far stronger than she seemed as she yanked him around, small hands snatching the front of his shirt to pull him down to her level. Hands pressed to his cheeks as the crimson orbs bore into his gaze, mere inches away, looking for…. something. SoH 'Iv? Her intense gaze tried to peer into his soul. She didn’t see any flicker of recognition. veHHeHDaj DaSov'a'? Pupils flushed and still did not see what they were seeking, drawing a soft sigh from her chest as she released his face once more. He wasn’t of her world. There had been no spark of understanding behind his pained gaze. Scowling she looked up at him, any assumption that this was some mouse was quickly being proven wrong as she was content to go toe-to-toe with anyone. It was the cruelty of bigotry that had sent her into hiding, it was a concept she did not understand and didn’t know how to live in. ….you think too much….. The thick accent remained as she turned to the rail. Air disturbed around her, peached waves billowing upward before the word spoke with a strength that didn’t need to shout. The harsh language caused some of the crew to take an unconscious step back. There was no language on earth that came close. HoS lughoStaHvIS… The effect was instant, a columnar vortex erupting on either side of the vessel causing the crew to scramble away from the rails. Several meters across the twin water spouts raced upward some fifty feet, gyrating in unison forcing an even rock to the ship. It was about as big as she could go without being in the water… without becoming the demon. Breath pulled deep into her chest as she let the connection go again, the watery cyclones falling like cascading waterfalls back to the sultry black waters. Coat was yanked up over her features, hiding from the cascade of droplets that came shedding down from the sky. Crimson orbs peeked out from the navy to ensure the danger was gone before the pea coat was allowed to fall back onto her shoulders. Turning she met his gaze again, the shrug very matter of fact. ..this water doesn’t like lots of thinking….. As if that explained everything she slid by him to trot down the stairs once more.
  21. Calder Muireadach

    The Great Ocean Escape

    Eyes narrowed as she pushed past him and he followed her, hand low on his spine under his sweater to flick the lock clip on the knife there. This was a first; a first for a charge to beat the hell out of his boat and seemingly attempt to do it again, or whatever she was trying to do. He was trusted by Durion, but even Durion would understand if he had to make a horrific decision for the greater good. He would not let his vessel and his crew be sunk by anyone he deemed a threat. Hand returned to his side calmly before she glared back at him. Not sinking….. putting ocean back in place…. She could move the water. Bated breath made him pause a moment as he watched her disappear onto the deck before taking the stairs two at a time after her in time to see the exchange. Chid jey …. CHID JEY! His world had no words. It was his will that forced the water to move… absolute control over every molecule, but where was he in the line of generations of water warriors?? Hundreds, if not thousands… had there ever been words? Was there ever a time when his people had to… ….was misbehaving…. …train the water. He’d stopped breathing at some point, watching the water do exactly what he’d assumed she’d told it to do. It was a beautiful thing. Eyes finally flicked to hers, narrowing in thought. He’d inherited a world where its greatest weapon was already a trained monster, reins were easy to take. This world wasn’t his, from what he’d gathered nothing moved water like he did before the Resonance. It was unruly, and vast. He had to train the water. How the hell was he supposed to train the water? Blue flicked back to the sluicing surface. There was nothing more he wanted to do than repeat the words she’d said. Sleeves were pushed up, exposing the seafoam colored script that started on his forearms and twisted upward where it disappeared under the sweater again; it pulsed once as long strides closed the distance to the railing where he leapt up and balanced nimbly even with the slick metal under his boots. Muscles moved as the ship did, keeping his balance. “Can you understand me…?” he said, the dark vocal chords speaking to it like an equal, extending fingers toward the water. It was not his equal, it was his servant. His weapon. He’d never spoken to the water before, flick outward of fingertips sending a thrum across the surface of the water like a swirl of rain. Then, nothing. Brow came down. It was all he was ever able to do. Seethed exhale calmed before he jumped down. “It doesn't work. It can’t be tamed. I've tried." Comment was dark as it was his turn to push past her toward the small cabin directly below the bridge. “There’s more food if you need it, what’s ours is yours,” he finished over his shoulder. The melancholy that was always there had returned after the brief moment of hope. Nod to Aki was slight and the man took the bridge, the captain retreating to his own space underneath to lick his wounds.
  22. Rhyse Falmarin

    The Great Ocean Escape

    She didn’t hear the plummet of the captain off the stairs. Scowl deeply etched over a brow that suddenly betrayed she wasn’t as much of a child as her features seemed to hint at. The growly language continued to spill from her lips as she "argued" with the ocean that didn’t always seem to understand the alien language. 'OH MEV!..... JIHVAD LOB BIQ'A' The dark water was a belligerent child and for all her fear of exposure, she was fed up with its petulant tantrums as again it tried to press into the flawed seam. This world had never taught the raging oceans how to obey. The last year on the run, her fear of being "known" for the demon this world believed her to be, all the hiding. It culminated now in a raging annoyance as she refused to back down from the ocean's fury. The first strike on her door and her hand snatched the handle, the second strike fell further forward than the first as she yanked the door open. "Is that you? If you're going to sink my boat we need to talk." SUQ MIW The "get out of my way" was clearly understood in her tone as she pressed past him into the hall. Her irritated steps marched to the stairs, left foot slamming onto the first tread where it all paused, the coat that swallowed her brushing against the step and sticking on its surface. She hadn't gone up since they took to the ocean waters. Scowl looked up the stairs as though she was heading to conquer the roman empire, the expression moved to him. Not sinking….. putting ocean back in place…. Unlike her previous dialogue… this tone tainted heavily of an outworlder accent, her home language still growling under her tongue. Chest heaved before her hand clutched the rail and movement finally came to her feet once more. Petite form marched upward for the first time since she had come onto the boat. Heart was thundering in her chest as she glanced at the small crew that all suddenly looked up as the redhead that hadn't made a peep since they left was suddenly on deck. Swallow was thick as some of the raw confidence waned. Second swallow finally found her feet moving a bit closer to the rail, still far enough to avoid the spray that misted over the edge as she glared out over the ebony waters. Chid jey …. Voice barely seemed to carry over the winds. CHID JEY! This time the small form let loose a violent strength in her words that still did not seem to shout. Effect was eerie and immediate. The churn of dark waters almost instantly began to calm, flowing along the sides of the ship, letting it slice through them with an ethereal smoothness as no longer the tendrils of water fought to reach into the old seams. Hands that had fisted the moment she had hit the deck finally unclenched though the scowl remained over her brow as she turned, crimson orbs finding the captain's. ….was misbehaving….
  24. Calder Muireadach

    The Great Ocean Escape

    Thoughts were a mile away, pausing on the redhead in his galley before he padded back to his own quarters. It took him a while to get dressed, sitting on the side of his bunk, elbows on his knees and drinking his hot chocolate slowly. He was angry. Every once in a while the warrior bubbled to the surface, reminding him of his inadequacies and putting him into a broody lull. Eventually he changed back to his regular attire, cargos, loose and worn gray cable knit sweater, scarf and such. The perfect boat captain. Galley empty as he passed, the sullen mood continued with his first step up the stairs to the deck. No sooner had he checked his watch, the clang of it hitting the railing preceded a seethe when his arm slammed against metal. It was quickly followed by the squeegee sound of his hand grabbing and slipping off the railing before he landed flat on his back at the bottom of the stairs. Head bounced once off the floor, a shooting array of stars through his vision as he groaned and leaned up, rubbing it. The boat hit something. The boat hit something! He rolled forward and launched up the stairs, met with… nothing. Small crew was peering over the deck on each side, reporting nothing. Nothing? He walked completely around the perimeter. Nothing. Nothing but new passengers. Second time in as many hours. Trot down the steps held purpose, twice banging on the door with the side of his fist where the more conscious of the two was most likely hiding. "Is that you? If you're going to sink my boat we need to talk." It wasn't angry, but it wasn't kind either. Already being irritated didn't help the tone. Upset his boat was getting tossed like a toy. Jealous maybe? If there was a rogue something on this ship that couldn’t control jack shit, they were getting off at St. John. He knew he had a job, but he also wasn’t going to watch his boat get pulled apart in the process. St. John was a helluva lot safer than Ireland at the moment, and he already wanted one off his boat. Might now be two.
  25. Rhome Del Santo

    Just Another Day at the Office....

    Starts at St. Patrick's Cathedral. Same Time. His eyes drooped slightly, a soft wool blanket on his lap. The fire mage was often cold, and during the winter in his underground "lair”, the goliath labyrinths’ temperature hovered at a consistent sixty five degrees- it didn’t help matters much. He was too humble to ask for another place to stay. The rustic wool blankets in his simple lodging helped, at least a little. Thoughts were fuzzy, almost into the state where the vividness of his usual nightmares kept him from ever truly being rested. Even that sometimes was fleeting as his book began to slip unintentionally from his fingers. When something startled most people, they jumped, flailed, cried out, followed with sheepish laughter or a snarky response to the perpetrator. The sudden slap of the cover on the floor startled him back to the world. Unmoving. He didn’t jump, or flail... he simply became acutely aware. Years of ingrained servitude and deathbringing made him lethal, mercurial eyes sliding to glance at the book, the nearly silent phone ringing on the small side table next to the bed. He was a “ringer almost off” kind of guy. Relished his silence, his simplicity. It was all that seemed to keep him from exploding anger into a million different directions lately. Nothing was said as he answered; the least amount of words his Order mole could say gave him the exact situation. Something he could use and add to his hoard of growing artifact treasure. An arsenal with a purpose only he knew. Definitely useful, and the place was really close. The emergent Smaug answered with a simple “noted”, and returned the phone to its spot. He’d found out the hard way his amulet didn’t protect items that weren’t clothing, and several cell phones later he just decided to leave it in his room when he went out. Dark jeans, black Tims and a gray hoodie, the magus ghosted from the building to climb. Whether it vertical, or a flat out run, his training was formidable. He preferred cover and covert, but he could hold his own in a brawl; rough if he had to. There was an elegance to violence he preferred, not because he liked it, but because in his eyes death should be delivered quickly. Law of minimal motion. Painless. Efficient. His body moved that way. He felt the tremble even as he made his way across the rooftops, hopping to the fire escape and sliding effortlessly into a glass-less window. Cop and other cars were around it on the ground level. Pharos maybe. Nobody was looking up, or in the top area of the building. Serious, or contained. From the groan of the building, definitely serious and not contained. As he alternated between swinging from landing to landing and sliding down the railings of the emergency stairs, the dust was rising upward. Through shouts, sounds of concrete being broken, a hole in the second floor to the first, the occupants of the hammer’s hell suddenly found a silent new form in the middle of the dusty haze as he dropped though the hole. Silent landing most likely left him unnoticed for a moment as he surveyed the scene, eyes peering from under his hood found Seiko first. Not expected. Abandon ship. Time to leave. They could have this artifact. This cop was too good at being nosy and he didn't want to visually be on their radar a second time. People had died though. He could smell it, the wet iron against the dust a unique scent. Eyes narrowed slightly, he couldn’t leave people to die. He was going to regret this, deep breath increasing the heat around him until he could feel the pull of cold air rushing to his position, and he pushed it upward in a billow of flame. Heat rising through the break in the ceiling, it pulled the lingering dust in the air with it to clear the view slightly of how many people were actually in there, and giving him his first look at the thing that was wrecking the building. Hand snapped outward just in time, the standoff not something he was expecting so quickly, the hammer’s head almost to his palm and being held off by a small domed shield of flame reminiscent of the inside of a blast furnace. His feet were sliding backwards as he held it in place, simply because he himself wasn’t heavy enough to push against the thing’s momentum. He wasn't trying to. It gave him a second to get a good look at it before he let it go and snapped sideways to let it pass and sink into the wall. Why target him? Exposed? Attracted to heat sources maybe, that’s why it was attracted to people and not the walls? He didn’t move from his position in the open. Maybe it was attracted to movement. Sound? “Who am I talking to?” he said quietly, watching it angrily try to free itself but speaking to whoever was in charge in the room. "What have you tried?"
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