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Slainte 7/8 2021 2:30pm Crazy ass mofo... *npc* Paddy... The woman's voice snapped him out of his grouchy face at the stupid piece of equipment, Blue always snapped him out of his moods... she was like a sister. *npc* You got shit to do. Stop screwing around with the sink. I'll get someone on it. Lips pursed, then smooched her on the cheek. It was quiet always right after the lunch rush; a little bit of a lull before the dinner crowd and all out race to last call. He needed a nap or some shit, still pretty banged up from his last escapade. He sported a shiner, bashed knuckles or a bruised jaw more often than he'd like to admit. Someone getting the drop on him made him pissy. Granted, he dealt with assholes most of the time and it was rare they had a one-up, it still annoyed him. He was alive though, he'd heal. I'll be in my office trying to be responsible. Let me know if anything interesting happens. With that, the quirky Pharos employee made his way up the stairs. Nap maybe. Responsibilities... nap... responsibilities, nap. Aw hell, he'd flip a coin.
Friday, April 6, 2021 Time : Noon "Man what a day", spoke Moses to himself as he stretched his body out. His long slender arms extended out toward the heavens as his chest shot up toward the sky. The rest of his body leaned back to give him some balance and support his weight. With his head now twelve feet off the ground Moses had a good view of the park. It was calm, peaceful, and filled with warming sun light. Ever since his transformation into a Lamia Moses has always enjoyed the sun light. He was not cold blooded like many snakes, but the warm feeling of the sun on his scales gave him a sense of joy he lacked when he was still a normal man. So many things had changed since he transformed. There were so many things he had lost. "Enough of that', spoke Moses aloud as he cleared the thoughts from his mind. Now was not the time to be thinking about that. He did that enough all the time. Now as the time to enjoy the park, take in the sun, and feel alive once more. The city was completely different from the south. In his old hometown there were trees everywhere. Compared to New York it was practically a forest. Here in the big apple though, well it was a bleak landscape of concert and yellow taxi cabs, except here. In this one little area the world was renewed. Grass spread all around and tress bloomed like spring. It was Moses one place of sanctity in this city. The one place that felt close to home. Central park, the big green of New York. "Alright lets get some exercise in", he spoke to himself as his body returned to its normal standings position. He then began to slither across the ground at elevated speeds. Viewing the world form this angle was frustrating and weird when he first started, but now, well now it was just another thing. He wondered if it was the same for the other meta-humans who lived in the city. Maybe not the same exact experience. A centaur did not have to look at the world from the ground, or slide on its belly, but the normalcy they had experience had also been shattered. As Moses glided across the grass his mind was filled with various sensations. However the Lamia was simply ignoring them. He did not care that a dog was urinating under a tree, or that the women staring at him from a nearby bench was deadly afraid. He did not care that the businessman walking by was three degrees lower than everyone else, nor did he care that the women in the bathroom was burning up from disease. Today was not they day his sensations would get the better of him, but the day he let the world simply bleed into a uniform grey. it was his day at the park, and the sun was radiating a glorious hue. "I wonder if I can buy a waffle come", spoke Moses to himself as his nose picked up on the smell. His tong flicked out his mouth and confirmed the sensation.
December 12, 2020 Fae Ice Age, New York NPC: "Boss, we got another one." The staff of Thyrsus had grown during the Ice Age, largely due to limited mobility. Jimmy, or Steve, or whatever his name was, Tom didn't care. He was one of Strollo's boys who typically helped out with the security work of the 'downstairs operations'. Due to the prohibitive nature of the weather outside, shipments of any kind had slowed dramatically. This is what has largely contributed to his current problem. Tom had noticed orders had been down. This was expected due to the big freeze. However, they slowed down much more than they should have. Rumors began of counterfeits being peddled to Thyrsus's customers. When reaching out to clients, they said that shipments came earlier than expected. Someone had provided their orders to the bottle. The only problem was, it hadn't been Tom. This was a tremendous problem on multiple levels. Someone had access to his purchase orders and was using that to profit...at the expense of the family. When Tom explained to his clients that this so-called discount was indeed false...and that the product that they purchased was bootlegged and terrible...they were upset. When their clientele started dying, they became furious...at Tom. "How could you let this happen?!" "What are you going to do about it?!" "You owe us...big time." Tom was furious. Luckily for those around Tom, the timing couldn't have been better. It had been nearly 2 weeks since the last full moon, and this was the time that its influence over him was minimized. Otherwise, Steve or Jimmy or whatever his name was wouldn't have dared to speak to him with bad news. That was often Roderick's burden. People were dying and their deaths were being laid at Tom's feet because he had failed at controlling distribution. He thought he had that controlled, however it was apparent he did not. There was a gap somewhere, and he intended to sniff it out. Tom looked at Strollo's goon holding a phone. He was good enough at his job, but Tom wouldn't have used him for anything more complicated than breaking fingers or stacking boxes. He'd have to do. Same thing? Tom knew the answer. Of course it was. Swelling of the eyes and tongue until they asphyxiated or pressure on the brain caused them to have a stroke. Every. Single. Time. Jim-Steve nodded as he was becoming accustomed to reading Tom's moods and decided that further speech was likely unwise. Smart. Perhaps he could find a use for him after all. People were dying. Always after leaving a bar or club. Always after drinking something from Tom's 'early deliveries'. Always dying in the same gruesome fashion. The only thing connecting these murders is Tom's booze. Or...a facsimile of it. This would, undoubtedly, lead to a conversation with some sort of law enforcement. He had to find that lead. Every second that ticked by without squashing it quietly was another second given to police/ARMA to come poking around again. Tom opened the front door and stepped outside into the winter hellscape. The cold stabbing right into his bones helped to melt away the mind-fogging frustration and helped him to regain focus. It was about time to see this matter resolved.