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About Wade

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  • Birthday 08/27/1996

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    Texas, probably
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  1. Wade

    Promotion Celebration [Terrenus Military]

    This party is sorely lacking in troublemakers. Maybe it’s time for Echo to stir the pot a little
  2. Wade

    Strange Occurrences

    Teddy held Harlow’s gaze. Someone coughed to the side. Was it Cindy? He hoped it wasn’t Cindy. She was too pretty to sound like someone who ate cigarettes. Anyway, he couldn’t worry about that right now. Harlow was still giving him lip. He had to come back with a clever retort, something about his hat, or how he had more dick in his personality than he had in his pants. Something that would really crush him, at least enough to get him out of his face. Standing so close to each was getting weird. As Teddy opened his mouth to speak, Exclamation stepped in between them. “Stop it!” she exclaimed, because of course she did. “We need to get Harlow’s eye back!” Teddy’s stare never left Harlow’s, but that didn’t stop him from furrowing his brow. “She’s already got it back,” Harlow said. “She’s outside.” The creases in his forehead deepened. He was missing something here. “Um-“ Exclamation suddenly ran out the door. Almost pointlessly, Teddy thought, because she came back inside a few seconds later. However, two more people accompanied her this time, and one of them was the crazy cat lady from before. Specifically, the very reason Teddy had come to the bar in the first place. He groaned softly, suddenly wanting to escape, but a good look at her companion made him pause. Luckily, he had the wit to keep himself from staring for too long. She was a shapely woman, with caramel skin. Her robes gave her the air of a desert princess, and something in her eyes, her face, her walk- told him she had the attitude to match. It didn’t surprise him at all when she pointed at a haughty finger at Exclamation. “You!” she barked, striding dangerously towards the blue-haired girl. “Tell me of when you last saw her, at once!” Teddy’s head was positively swimming at this point. Not that it hadn’t been before. “Guys,” he cut in, a little unsurely. “If you’re, uh, looking for Harlow, I think that’s him right there.” He jabbed a thumb at Harlow. Then a thought occurred to him. He turned around, looking at the tall, muscled man. “Fucking hell, you’re a girl."
  3. Wade

    Hasa Diga Eebowai

    It wasn’t fair, Ethan decided. No, it wasn’t fair at all. Today was patrol duty. The same kind Ethan had run for eight months, three days, five hours, and six seconds. He was precise like that because he hated it. Hated it with the passion of… of what? What was something that was considered passionate? He struggled with the question until suddenly he remembered: passion fruit. He hated it with the passion of passion fruit. Now all he had to do was say it out loud, because saying things out loud was what made them real. “I hate it with the passion of passion fruit.” “You hate the passion of fruit?” Bill said. “You hate the passion of passion?” Will said. “What’s wrong with you?” they both said. Ethan sighed. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Now the twins were talking and that was never a good thing. They’d go on and on and on, chatting about this and that, hooting over rocks or figuring out which way to grow their beads. One time, over dinner, they had brought up the question of how babies were made. Bill was a firm believer in the idea that storks delivered babies (even though there were no storks on the island), while Will suggested the possibility of store-bought babies (even though there were no stores on the island). Ethan had scoffed at them both and told them to shut up. Babies were obviously made from the people they ate. But baby-making aside, there was something more important Ethan didn’t understand. Why were they here? What had they done? What had he done, to deserve this never-ending march through the jungle? Of course he’d done some crappy things before. He understood that. Everyone made a few bad judgement calls in their lives whether they admitted it or not. Still, was stealing Pico’s juju really that bad? Or how he liked to eat his steak with a fork when no one else was looking? Cripes, the Feast was tomorrow! And he was going to miss it! He could deal with sore feet and the two bumbling idiots he kept for company, but sweet Allmother, he didn’t want to miss the Feast! It was the one time in the whole year when the whole village got together, and this year was supposed to be the biggest one yet. So why, why did he have to be out here? “Ethan, you look mad.” “Ethan, you look sad.” Ethan didn’t say anything. Against all odds, the twins were right. If they understood that, they would be like dogs with a new chew toy; biting and pawing, yapping away incessantly. It would be a nightmare. Worse than the one he was living already. The best thing he could do was to keep his mouth shut until they made it back to camp. About an hour later, the Maw loomed into view. It was a wall of black stone, stretching for kilometres, separating the Ashlands from the Baiyale Canyon. At its center was a cavernous opening, framed by stalactites and smaller stalagmites. Huts and wooden scaffolding decorated its exterior, with a handful of man-made homes carved mercilessly into the rock. Usually it felt more alive, brimming with activity. It had always been a well-guarded place, full of Tavadu warriors and hunters alike. The preparations for the Feast, however, had stolen the lion’s share of the bunch. Now all that remained were the worst of the worst; those tasked with guard-duty for their varying misdemeanours. Some of the men raised their weapons in greeting upon seeing Ethan and the twins, though many like him were too despondent to attempt the gesture. Ethan found his bed with a graceless flop. Morning as it may have been, the night shift was taking its toll. He could feel it in his back, his shoulders, and his feet which were callused beyond saving. He’d have to remember to request a new pair of shoes. Maybe something like boots instead of sandals, to keep out the ash and those awful, awful ants. Should’ve thought of that before, he thought sleepily. It was just as he felt himself slipping away that Bill and Will burst into his hut. “ETHAN!” they yelled in unison. Ethan toppled to the ground. He only looked at them after a moment of heart-pounding tossing. “What?” The twins made vague gestures, as if to shape the air. Their unnaturally long, bony hands trembled with uncertainty. “It’s a dolphin!” “It’s a whale!” “And it's rhhwooorhwoooing!” “And it’s wharrwhaaaawhaaaing!” Ethan didn’t know what either of those things were. He suspected no one did, unless you spoke idiot. “Go away,” he mumbled. “But the the dolphin!” “But the whale!” “It’s coming!” they awed together. Ethan closed his eyes. “Hold on,” he grumbled, rolling out of bed. He grabbed his bottle of juju in the process, then twisted off the lid and swirled the glowing blue liquid in inside. If they were going to keep him awake, he might as well take the edge off. Gulp. The effect was instant. Explosive. Like someone had switched off a valve. The blood in his body ran wild, flooding his spine with a slick, gooey warmth. The muscles tightened in his arms and legs, his chest and back, and his vision swam with blue, so much blue, that he felt like he was drowning inside of an eloquent dream. “Okay,” he drawled, suddenly relaxed. “Let’s go see the… um… ” “The dolphin!” “The whale!” “Yeah, that,” he finally conceded. They stepped outside, where the shifting clouds spoke of a coming ashstorm. The twins led him up a ladder, onto a balcony, pausing only to pet one the beetlehounds. “Do you hear it?” they asked. “Hear what?” His mouth felt full of drool now. The twins pointed to their ears with both hands. Ethan cocked his head. “I don’t hear anything.” Bill and will groaned. “Ethan,” they exasperated. “Listen.” Ethan raised an eyebrow, yet did as he was told. One second passed, then another, and a third, and a fourth, and… and… ooingshroo… Ethan looked at the twins. “What is that?" The twins shook their heads. They led him up another ladder, quickening their pace. Once they’d made it thirty or so feet up the Maw, they pointed at something in the distance. Ethan squinted his eyes. He didn’t see it right away, that tiny little speck in the sky- but when he did, his eyes slightly widened. It kinda did look like a dolphin. Or a whale. But really, his mind kept coming back to the word shark. It must have been big if he could see it from over here. And the sound it made, what was that? Some weird… whroowhrooshing. Not like anything he’d ever heard before “It’s moving,” Bill said. “It’s turning,” Will said. The shark, still so far away, resolved itself into a single point. Ethan watched, curious. “What’s it doing?” The twins whispered. “It’s coming.” Ethan suddenly felt afraid, even with the juju in his veins. Against all odds, for the second time that day, the twins were right. The shark was coming. The point was growing larger, the sound was getting louder, and the longer he looked on, the more he could make out the shark’s metal skin, its razor fins, the worried shouting of a crowd gathering beneath him. Someone further up blew the horn. They were getting ready to fight. “Ethan, what do we do?” Ethan’s gaze lingered on the shark, then flickered to his hut. He’d left his gun in there. “Weapon,” he murmured. “Need my weapon.” He was about to head for the ladder when he heard an abrupt crack. He glanced up at the fast-approaching beast, wide-eyed and tight-chested. In less than a second, the crowd beneath him exploded in a soot-laced geyser. Powdered bones and jellied organs swam in his vision, little fishes in an ocean of blue. The balcony they stood on shook with the ground, while a cloud of ash engulfed their encampment. We need to get down, he thought sluggishly. By the time they made it to the ground, some of the dust had cleared. Not as many people as he thought died from the explosion. Several were wounded and a few were simply shocked. The shark’s mechanical roar heralded its arrival, as it slowly landed further down from the Maw. People, he saw, came rushing out of it. Many of his tribesmen were already shooting at them. A beetlehound rushed past his legs. It clicked ravenously, hungering for blood. Ethan watched another five join it before a bullet whizzed past him. Weapon, his mind yawned at him. Inside his hut, he reached under his bed. His hand fumbled around the rifle’s rusted grey frame, then brought it out to the light for him to see. He turned a crank on its body, gave it a few flicks, and a line down the barrel hummed blue- because blue was all he could see. Bill and Will were waiting outside for him. They held no guns, though he knew they could use magic. In their days before becoming Tavadu, they’d been students. Students of what, they couldn’t remember. That was the way it was with most tribesmen, not being able to remember. Ethan took them to cover by a pair of cerebroaks. He glanced past the tree’s bulbous trunk, then took aim and fired his gun. A chunk of flaming metal burned a hole in one of the invaders. “Ethan, the horn,” Bill pointed out. “It stopped,” Will pointed out. Ethan paused. No one was sounding the horn anymore. Without it, the Bramok would never come. “Cover me.” Ethan ran for the ladders. ——————— “Did you see that?” Echo whooped. “Toonk! Ker-PRAOWF!” It had been her idea to fire the railgun. Seeing those savages packed together like that, she couldn’t resist the temptation. “Yeah, but now we can’t see anything,” Vorsch complained. “I’m only picking up dust over here.” “Worth it,” Echo countered. The speakers on her helmet made her sound like a robot. As expected, it had taken the whole hour to assemble the Ronové, plus another seventeen minutes with just ten to spare. In the end, though, the effort had been worth it. Seeing her white and blue frame in the mirror, looking like a demon knight from space… Breathtaking. And she wasn’t even in battle yet. “ETA sixty seconds,” Jigsaw called out. “Get ready.” The rest of their team was waiting for them in the hangar. Echo strode to the front of the ramp, whereas Vorsch took the rear. He was on bomb duty, and that meant he couldn’t risk getting shot. If he did, the Ronové would go from a war machine to a pack mule. The idea in itself hurt Echo’s heart. Vorsch looped his arms through the straps of a backpack, one Echo had designed solely for the canister’s transport. With that titanic physique of his, it couldn’t have weighed more than a small keg. At least, she hoped. Otherwise he really would need a new chiropractor. He caught her looking at him, then seemed to read her thoughts. He gave her two meaty thumbs up that said, I’m good. A pair of rotating lights suddenly blared red. Jigsaw’s voice crackled from every direction. “ETA ten seconds.” Echo took a deep breath. She counted the seconds in her head. Four, three, two, one… The ramp hissed open. Showtime. They all surged forward, a couple of them shouting. Someone to her right immediately got shot. Pushing off with the muscles of her suit, she tore a path for a strange, boulder-like plant. A hail of bullets followed her there, and she was surprised when an obsidian spear nearly ripped her pauldron off. “Christ,” she swore, huddling up against the plant. The armour on her left shoulder now had a wicked gash in it, flecked by shards of volcanic rock. Power armour or not, her shoulder would have been fucked If that spear had been made of steel. She’d forgotten how strong the Tavadu supposedly were. She took a peak past the plant’s edge. A quick estimation put their enemies in the thirty to fifty digits. That was excluding one of the things that had circled around and taken her by surprise. It was on top of her in a flash, forcing her to the ground, its inky black mandibles snapping ferociously at her visor. Without thinking, she grabbed hold of the creature’s mouth. It tore apart as easily as wet parchment. The creature shrieked, oozing yellow blood onto her helmet. The sound was like glass scraping against a chalkboard. Echo stopped it by wrapping her hands around its head, just as the Ronove’s capacitors unleashed a surge of electricity. By the time Echo had enough of the beast’s demented writhing, she tossed its smoking corpse aside and quickly got up. Getting a good look at it, she thought it resembled a mix of stag beetle and dire wolf. It had six legs, two milky white eyes, and a mane of grass-like hair where there should have been wings. Fascinating. Wiping some of the blood off her helmet, she reached for a metal rod holstered at her hip. It was the length of her forearm and as polished as a mirror. “Alright, you handsome devil.” She willed the Ronové’s capacitors to life once more. “Time to play.” In response to the electricity, both ends of the baton shot out. The bo staff that formed as a result thrummed loudly, sparking like a lightning storm trapped in cage. Echo glanced up, briefly making eye contact with Grant. It’s a really cool staff. And with that, she charged.
  4. Wade

    [QUEST] Night at the Museum

    The sudden tension between Teddy and Cora kept that night from being any kind of enjoyable. So when the sun outside his hotel window started to filter through the curtains, he sighed, got dressed, and made his weary trip to the docks, not looking forward to seeing her again. Along the way, he ran into Candie and Sunny. They still raised the hairs on his neck, despite him not knowing quite why, but he enjoyed their banter and found them endearing in an odd sort of way. Kind of like a pair of baby tarantulas who could squeal out the national anthem. The walk itself helped to take his mind off the job. It was nice to just take in the sights, breathe in the coastal air, and stop by a bakery to grab an almond croissant for breakfast. The cloudless sky above them warmed his back comfortably, as it was an unusually frigid morning for a summer that was expected to top charts. He almost felt like he should’ve brought a jacket in addition to his polo, so instead he settled for the next best thing: a pumpkin spice latte, extra whipped cream. Delicious and hot enough to burn a hole in his esophagus. No one from the rest of their group were at the docks when they arrived, but Teddy recognized Edgar who was talking to another man. Both of them were smoking cigars, chatting away. It wasn’t until Teddy got closer that he identified the stranger’s clothes as that of a sailor’s. Edgar noticed them approaching from the corner of his eye. He turned and grinned, puffing out a wispy grey cloud. “Morning,” he said. “How’s everyone holding up?” Teddy yawned obnoxiously. The party had ended at two in the morning, and it was currently half-past eight. Edgar nodded in understanding. “Cigar?” "No thanks,” Teddy answered with a shake of his head. "My liver’s already shot. No need to add my lungs to the list.” Edgar shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he replied, before offering the twins a swipe at his tin. “How are things between you and Cora?” “We’re not exactly on speaking terms.” Edgar pursed his lips. “Hey, look. I’m sorry if I-" Teddy cut him off with a wave. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t do anything.” He took a sip of his coffee, then motioned to the sailor with a tilt of his chin. “You gonna introduce us?” Edgar gave him a reluctant look. “This,” he began, with more vigour now. “Is Captain Denholm. He’ll be the one taking you to Port City.” Teddy stepped up to Denholm. “Teddy Leon, pleasure to meet you.” “Pleasure’s all mine,” The captain said, shaking his hand. “That’s a nice little late you’ve got there, son." “Yeah, he’s always been a bit of a pansy,” Edgar chimed. "Good kid, though.” Teddy simply decided to smile. He didn’t have enough caffeine in his system yet to properly banter. A glance to the street they’d come from revealed the quietly approaching figures of Cora, Jon and Tedimius, and he made a small gesture to make the others aware of their presence. Edgar welcomed them with open arms, then led them further down the docks once he’d introduced them to the captain. The U-boat peered out from the water like a whale coming up for air, its gunmetal grey frame a long and narrow thing. Protruding near its center was a squat tower that served as an entrance. Denholm took them through it, down a winding staircase, then showed them a cramped hallway that would serve as their temporary home. Pipes and valves followed them to their room, which consisted of six uncomfortable-looking bunks closely packed together. There wasn’t enough space for all of their suitcases, so they left them out to lay by the bathroom, where their only privacy was a flimsy little curtain. “I think I might be claustrophobic,” Teddy commented. The rest of the tour included basic instructions, plus a few curt introductions to passing crew members. Through it all, Teddy made a point of keeping his distance from Cora. That usually amounted to three to five feet, much to his discomfort. The idea that they were going to be sharing a room together for the next few days made him want to squirm. Maybe I should go talk to her. While Denholm was explaining something, he risked a peek at at her. Maybe tomorrow. By the time preparations were all said and done, Edgar had left them for the surface with a lighthearted goodbye. Teddy himself had disappeared into the armoury. He wanted to familiarize himself with the equipment while also hoping for an escape. Overhead, an alarm blared twice. That meant they were about to dive, if he’d listened correctly. He waited a minute, putting the pieces of a revolver down on the table in front him. The metal coffin suddenly lurched, and he felt a slight tugging sensation as the hull groaned in protest. He waited another minute, just to make sure no bolts came free. One of the lightbulbs exploded all over him. This was a terrible idea.
  5. Wade

    Hasa Diga Eebowai

    The meeting at town hall had been brief but informative. They’d learned that the Tavadu tribe had raided the port two days ago, leading with the largest force anyone had witnessed from them in the past decade. What they didn’t steal in goods, they made up with in people: roughly forty villagers, men, women and children, abducted for purposes unknown. Indoctrination seemed to be the most obvious of reasons, along with cannibalism and sadism. However, some people felt ritual sacrifice was the be-all and end-all to any answers they could possibly come up with. “Still, it’s weird,” Grant said. Echo looked up at him. He was one of the twenty or so villagers who’d volunteered to join them aboard the Casimir, all of whom were ready to fight despite their relatively ordinary backgrounds. He had tanned skin and a lanky frame. His afro gave him the distinct resemblance to a languid palm tree. “Oh yeah?” Echo's gaze shifted back to the terminal in front of her. “Which part?” “All of it,” he said, watching the canister emerge from its slot in the floor. “Usually they go after small groups wandering through the jungle. Easy targets, like merchants or folks going to the Abbey. Sometimes they do do kidnappings at night, but even that’s pretty rare for them." “Kinda sounds like they’re declaring war if that’s the case.” “Maybe.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. "They’ve never attacked us so directly before.” Echo checked the canister’s temperature. Exactly two degrees celsius. So long as it stayed that way, the liquid inside wouldn’t bend any physical laws without her say-so. “The Bramok have been expanding rather aggressively,” Grant continued. “Could be they’re running low on food and the Tavadu are just providing.” Echo hmmed. “Sounds like the most reasonable explanation,” she said distractedly, fiddling with the terminal some more. “Jigsaw, how long ‘till we land?” The robot’s voice crackled overhead. “One hour and thirty-seven minutes.” Yikes. She was running behind. With a push of a button, the bomb sank back into the floor. She moved towards a steel crate sitting in a corner, the one with the word ‘RONOVÉ’ painted on it in bright orange letters. A keypad beeped green as she punched in 01134, followed by a fingerprint scanner and a full facial recognition. “Seems a little excessive,” Grant commented. “Not excessive enough." The light from the facial scan dimmed out of existence, and the locks popped free with a pressurized hiss. Echo twisted the handle and pulled open the panel. Inside the crate rested a full suit of magitech power armour. Grant whistled. “That looks like some serious business.” Echo pulled the helmet free, then began with the rest of what was inside. Laying it all out on the floor was a workout in itself, since the total mass of the armour weighed close to a ton. “They’re called Daemons,” she said, setting aside a gauntlet. “It’s a little generic but Daemonium’s too long, and Goetia just sounds weird.” Grant folded his arms. “What's it do?” “You want the short version or the long version?” “How long's the long version?” Echo thought about it. “You know those moms who think their kid’s the greatest thing in the world?” “Yeah?” “I’m that mom." “Ah,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll take the short version." Echo nodded. “Pretty much turns you into a fucking monster.” The last piece to come out was the bodysuit; the inner shell you actually secured the armour to. Underneath its flexible, gel-filled skin were layers of synthetic muscle that gave the suit much of its strength. Wearers were known to flip trucks, punch through steel, and run at speeds topping 70 km/h. Without the proper training, they often vaulted a couple of feet into the air when all they meant to do was take a simple step. “There are seventy-two suits in total,” Echo said, signalling for Grant to turn around. When he did, she stripped to her undergarments so she could slip into the bodysuit. “No two are the same.” “What makes this one unique?” “It’s got a staff.” “A staff?” “Yep." “No guns?” “It’s a really cool staff.” As she slid into the bodysuit, it reactively moulded itself to match her physique. Glyphs lining the interior of its spine ensured it was a one-size-fits-all, so long as you were humanoid in shape and somewhere between five and eight feet tall. For the moment, being inside of it felt like having sandbags glued to her entire body. The neural connection took a while to kick in, so until then she was mostly dead weight from the neck down. “So what made you volunteer?” she asked, waiting. “Can I turn around now?” “Go ahead.” Grant shifted back to face her. “Neat,” he commented. “Kinda makes your boobs disappear, though." Echo tried to laugh. Considering how heavy and tight the suit was, it proved surprisingly difficult. “I’ll make sure to consider that in my future designs,” she said, right before torrents of ice flooded her veins. Her back arched ever so slightly and she gasped, stumbling forward. The flares that streaked across her vision moved with the speed of screaming synapses. Grant started, worry glinting in his eyes. “You okay?” Echo blinked furiously for the next few seconds. The streaks eventually faded, and so did the ice. In their wake, she felt a peculiar lightness- an unbridled sense of power that told her she could rip spines and leap across chasms. It was if every fibre in the suit’s musculature were her very own. “Don’t worry, I’m good,” she answered, flexing her fingers experimentally. “Just got taken by surprise.” Grant didn’t look convinced. “You sure?” Echo stretched her arms and legs. No problems so far. “If I start convulsing, you have my permission to freak out. Until then, how about you answer my question and tell me why you want a piece of the pie?” “Alright.” Grant took a moment to sit on the edge of a table. “They killed my son in the attack,” he said quietly. Echo processed his answer with a bob of her chin. “That’s ass.” Surprise splayed itself across Grant’s eyebrows. He barked out a laugh. “So much for social filters,” he said. “I’m pretty feral, eh?” “I expected an apology." Echo shrugged. “Do you want one?” “Not particularly,” Grant confessed. "Would you mean it?” “Not really.” She glanced over to the armour pieces laying on the ground. Without a proper rig, it would most likely take the whole hour and a bit to assemble the Ronové manually. “Tell you what, though- I’ll kill a few of those tribals in honour of your son. What was his name?” Grant smiled. “His name was Andre.” Echo returned the smile. “To Andre, then. Now c’mon, I’m going to need your help to set this thing up.”
  6. Wade

    Custom rank title 7

    I know someone who talks like an owl.
  7. Wade

    Strange Occurrences [OOC]

    Still here fam
  8. Wade

    Hasa Diga Eebowai

    Following lunch, the flight to Biazo was relatively quiet. Echo spent most of it tinkering in her shop, giving life to a stapler, while the late hours in the afternoon saw her studying Dark Matter in a Nutshell. By the time the Casimir was making its descent, she had a fairly solid idea on how to make a black hole. Not a grand, star-eating black hole, but a tiny one small enough to roll between your knuckles. She thought she’d try it next time at dinner. Everyone gathered beside her in the hangar, where they waited for Jigsaw to land them safely. There was a subtle thud, then a few flashing green lights, and the ramp slowly hissed open to reveal Greenwitch Port. At first glance, it was quaint. Nice and wide, stretching across a length of palm trees and stony hills. The buildings were mostly made out of wood and brick, a far cry from Hell’s Gate’s cutting edge architecture. It looked like someplace you’d go to for a nice, quiet vacation, with a little bit of boating and a few hikes to the jungle thrown in. But the further they wandered, the more it became apparent that things hadn’t been quiet in a while. A few windows were smashed in. Scorch marks and blood stains were spaced out haphazardly. Bullet holes were a common sight, and sometimes they’d run across a few arrows nobody had bothered to pick up. All the marks of a recent battle, and a big one at that. It’s a good thing we’ve got an airship to sleep in, Echo thought. She looked at her watch. “We’ve still got about an hour before meeting the mayor at town hall. If you guys want to go explore, now would be the time.” Her hands found her hips. Looking at the slightly ravaged town made her tired. “Otherwise, you can just stick with me. I’ll be gathering informal reports from the locals before our meeting."
  9. Wade

    Hasa Diga Eebowai OOC

    Apologies on the delay. Work took a good chunk out of me, and I don't have the energy to land us in Biazo just yet (though I am working on it). Hopefully, I'll have my post up tomorrow. At the very latest, I promise it'll be ready for Wednesday. Sorry again.
  10. Wade

    Hasa Diga Eebowai OOC

    @~Harlow. has been skipped. Since she hasn't been online since Monday, we're going to exclude her from the post order and continue as if it were just the three of us. If/when she comes back, she'll have the option to rejoin. For now, the post order will look like this: Wade Old Man Jean Ayumi As for me, I might extend my turn by a day. I've got a busy weekend, and I start a full-time job on Monday. I'll keep you guys posted. Thanks for your patience.
  11. Wade

    Custom title raffle 6

    Why did the monkey fall out of the tree? Because it was dead.
  12. Wade

    [QUEST] Night at the Museum

    Teddy watched Cora ditch him for the bar. If she wasn’t so pretty to look at from behind, he might’ve tilted an eyebrow. “Well, that’s a good start to the night,” a man barked from somewhere to his left. “Don’t tell me you already pissed her off.” Teddy reluctantly turned away from Cora’s receding figure. The man stood next to a pillar as if he’d always been there, waiting for a certain someone to arrive. A form-fitting tuxedo slimmed his profile, and while he was evidently old and greying, there was a uniquely childlike energy to that bright white smile of his. Teddy couldn’t help but grin in response. “Not yet,” he said, stepping towards the man. “But give it until the end of the night. She tends to get a little violent when the mood strikes.” The two of them chuckled briefly before patting each other on the back. “How you been, Edgar?” Teddy let go of the man. “It’s been a while.” “Two years, if I’m not mistaken,” Edgar said. "Give it a few more, and I’ll be in a wheelchair. My knee’s going to shit.” “So is your hair.” “Wiseass.” Edgar snapped his fingers. A pretty girl in a waiter’s uniform suddenly appeared with a tray full of fruity pink cocktails. Teddy grabbed one, and so did Edgar. They clinked their glasses together, then took a casual first sip. “Must be nice,” Teddy said as the waitress the disappeared back into the crowd. “Having a hot girl at my every beck and call?” “You’re a lecherous old man, Edgar.” Teddy took another sip. “But yes.” “I take it things didn’t work out with Syrah?” Teddy followed Edgar’s gaze all the way to the bar. “Nah." “Too bad. I liked her.” “I remember. You always tried to hit on her.” “Yeah, it used to piss you off. Especially when she played along.” Edgar began to laugh, but it quickly devolved into a coughing fit. “As you can see, my lungs are also going to shit." “Maybe ‘cause you won’t stop smoking those damn cigars.” “Little too late to be stopping now.” Edgar shrugged. “Anyway, who’s the new flame? You find her at the gym or something?” “Actually, it’s a funny story…” A few minutes later, they were laughing their way towards the bar. It was the outrageous, who-gives-a-shit kind of laughter only drunks could afford. Or, in their case, the kind shared between two men of equally harebrained caliber. It was apparent at a glance they were good friends, despite the obvious age gap that neared the forty year mark. It came out in the way they spoke to each other, and how every gesture was authenticated by a clear lack of posturing or bullshit. For everything Edgar had done for him, Teddy considered the man family. “Cora,” he called, wiping off the last traces of a giggle. “I’d like you to meet our host, Edgar Harrison. He’s an old mentor of mine I met in Tia a while back.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cora.” Edgar took Cora’s hand in his own, and made a show of kissing the back of it. “I’ve gotta say, you look lovely in that dress. Makes me wish I was thirty years younger.” Teddy rolled his eyes. As they came back down, they landed on a tiger resting by some guy’s feet across the room. “Uh, Edgar? Who’s the zookeeper?" “Oh, that’s Jon,” Edgar answered brightly. "He’s one of the people I hired for the job.” “What job?” Teddy finished off the last of his drink, then proceeded to fiddle with his collar. “I thought you were retired.” “I am.” Teddy waited for an explanation. When none came, he realized Edgar was looking at him expectantly. He shook his head. “Oh no.” “Oh yes. Look,” A hand rested itself along his shoulder. “I know you’re a busy guy-“ “Understatement of the year.” “-and I know you’re here to party-“ “It’s literally all I want to do right now. C’mon man, I thought you were better than this.” Edgar paused. He waited for Teddy to compose himself. “You know you’re the only person I can count on,” he finally said. “Just hear me out, okay? I promise you’re going to want in on this.” Teddy gave him a bitter scowl. “Let me get a drink, first. On you.” Edgar conceded with a nod, then let the bounty hunter fight his way towards the counter. In the meanwhile, he did that same trick where he snapped his fingers and a waitress appeared the very next second. He sent her back into the crowd with a few choice words. By the time she (and Teddy) returned, it was with Jon, a woman in a long coat, and a pair of twins that made Teddy’s skin crawl. Edgar clapped his hands together. “Teddy, I’d like you to meet Jon, Tedimius, Candie, and Sunny. They’re people you’ll be working with. If you think this is something that interests you. Now if you’ll all follow me, please.” He led them to a large, private room overlooking the rest of the cavern. There was a U-shaped couch and a table in the middle, along with a bucket of ice stocked with two bottles of champagne. Teddy took his post by the railing, leaning back onto it. Everyone else either clustered around Edgar, or scattered wherever they felt most comfortable. “So, what’s this grand job of yours?” A loud POP! filled the room, followed by a cork speeding off to rejoin the party downstairs. Edgar poured a glass of champagne for everyone present, even Teddy, who seemed insistent on sulking. “You’re familiar with Whispernight, right?” “Very,” Teddy replied. "Went to Telerian a few months ago. Took me a week to wash the stink off.” Edgar nodded. “Well then you should already be familiar with what I’ve got in mind. It’s dangerous business, but fortune favours the bold or so I’m told.” He pulled out his phone and typed something quickly. A few seconds later, everyone else's phones buzzed to life. Cora was the notable exception to this. “I just sent you the most recent map of Port City taken by satellite. That dot you see there? It’s the Dream Hall. Used to be one of Genesaris’ most famous museums before the collapse.” Attached to the file was also an image of a gold tablet. Hieroglyphs were neatly carved into it. At a guess, it was of draconic origin. Teddy showed Cora the image before Edgar kept on with his briefing. “The artifact in the image is the Midnight Plaque. I need you to go to the Dream Hall and get it for me.” “What makes it so special?” Teddy asked. “Besides the fact that it’s the most valuable piece in that entire museum?” “Okay, fair enough. What makes you think someone hasn’t already stolen it yet?” “Well, most of the world doesn’t even know it exists. They always kept it locked up somewhere, and I had pay top dollar to find out about its location. If anyone’s gone there, they’ve probably only cashed out what’s on display. Besides, it’s not like a lot of people are equipped to handle a flooded city full of undead.” Teddy folded his arms. “Are we equipped to handle a flooded city full of undead?” “How does a U-boat full of guns and holy water sound?” Teddy didn’t know much about U-boats. He’d seen them in old military photographs, and understood that they functioned as the army’s baby steps into submarine territory. Apart from that, his mind ran a blank. “When do we leave?” he said. “Tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?” “I mean, it’s a long ride to Port City. If you’re going to sleep off a hangover, might as well do it on the way there.” Teddy’s arms were still folded, though not so much because of his mood now. His face had taken on the contemplative tone of a mathematician lost in superficial analysis. “How much money are we talking here, exactly?” The number Edgar spoke was not fit for words. “Waddya say, kid?” Teddy looked at Cora. He was chewing the inside of his lip unsurely. “Sorry,” he whispered, almost to his own surprise. “I’ll come visit when I get back.” He turned to face the rest of the group. “Alright, I’m in." A terrific smile cracked Edgar’s weathered old face. He sprang from the couch like a monkey catapulting off his bed. Teddy’s unfinished drink was forcibly swapped out for a glass of champagne, and Edgar was vigorously shaking his arm in the manner of a proud father. Just as he swirled in place, seemingly ready to deliver a toast, something made him pause. He glanced over his shoulder. “Cora, was it?” He walked over to the table and grabbed another glass of champagne. “You know, a friend of Teddy’s is always a friend of mine.” He then handed her the glass in question. “It’d be remiss of me not to offer you the opportunity to join us, if you were so inclined.”
  13. Wade

    Hasa Diga Eebowai

    Dark in the city, night is a wire Steam in the subway, earth is afire “DO DO DO DO DO DO DO DODO DODODO DODO~” With the guided precision of a dressmaker’s needle, Echo tilted the flask. The liquid inside hissed in protest, misting as it oozed into a fortified canister on the table in front of her. The result was a neon pink fog that swirled around the workshop, coalescing into synaptic shapes that reminded her of vaguely of seaweed. Periodically, she had to wipe the condensation from her her visor. It accumulated on her biosuit, the table, the walls, and its presence induced a faint hum that clashed with her music. Sometimes, she’d get the occasional whiff of coconut or pineapple. Not because she was wearing perfume, but rather because that was what the vapour smelled like. Considering her suit’s filters were working at maximum capacity, this left an anxious prickle at the back of her neck. She should’ve only been smelling the coffee on her breath, or the bacterial disinfectant previous owners had used to clean the inside of her helmet. The idea that she was breathing in some radioactive void magic didn’t exactly put her in the mood for a piña colada. Just as the canister was about filled, Echo caught a flicker of movement to her right. She dabbed the last of the pink liquid, then looked at the glass wall separating her from the rest of Engineering. Oceala stood on the other side of it, smiling. “…cho! Y… st… dy… search… or!” Before she could say anything else, Echo stopped her with a finger. She held it there while she fiddled with a tablet, until the music eventually cut out and there was only the mist’s volatile humming. She then pressed a button on the wall. Her voice crackled to life on the deck’s overhead speakers. “What’s up?” Oceala thumbed a button on her side, producing the same effect in the biohazard room. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any literature I could read while we travel, would you?” Echo stared blankly. For some reason, she’d been expecting something alone the lines of Where’s the bathroom? “Well, let’s see,” she started. "There’s, uh…" The Fallen, by Chad Little. Fate Of The Ocean, by Fran Tanner. A Mime’s Wish, by Charlie Cannon. The Maze In The Eclipse, by Kit Rogers. Ambition, by Vic Mercury. The list extended beyond her ten fingers, so she decided on the first five. “The Fal-" “Or,” Oceala suddenly continued. "if you need any help with anything, I would certainly aid you. If I’m being honest, I truly just want something meaningful to do while we wait. It’s important that we keep our minds in pristine condition before we arrive.” Echo stared again. “Wow, okay. Um…” She glanced down at the canister. “I mean, I’m basically done over here. Maybe go juggle or something?” She shrugged as if to say Give me five minutes. All that was left for her to do was to pop on the seals, which prompted the canister into a slow cooling process. Grabbing it by the handles, she hauled her way into the disinfection chamber and stood idly by while the hoses did their work. “God, this thing’s heavy.” The canister gave a dull thud as she lowered it to the floor. A large slot swallowed it up, with the help of automatic latches to ensure it wouldn’t fly out under turbulence. Echo then began to strip. It was a more complicated process than it seemed. With several clasps and zippers keeping the biosuit form-fitting, it was a miracle she’d managed to put it on by herself. Once finished, she tossed the outfit to dry by one of the lockers. It only struck her now how hot it had been inside of it- namely because she was kind of sweaty, and kind of smelly. If she was going to eat anytime soon, she’d have to shower first. “How about you give me twenty minutes to clean up?” she said. “I’ll meet you in the galley, and we can grab lunch, ‘kay?” Oceala seemed fine with the proposal, so Echo disappeared down the hallway and into her quarters. As promised, she reappeared twenty minutes later. Instead of her military uniform, she’d swapped out for a navy blue T-shirt and a pair of grey cargo pants. It didn’t seem particularly tragic to her that she was wearing socks with sandals. “So, waddya in the mood for?” Her hand skittered inside the cabinet, picking out a variety of sealed packets for her to read. “We’ve got BBQ pork buns, chilli with beans, spaghetti- ooh, let’s do tacos!” She started handing Oceala two of the packets, then momentarily paused before pulling out another three. She motioned for Oceala to heat them up while she moved towards a speaker built into the wall. A familiar crackle filled every room on the ship. “Tacos. Galley. Now.” Shortly after, the Casimir’s crew gathered by the kitchen table. Even Jigsaw, who had no business eating in the first place. Echo and Oceala handed out steaming plates fresh from the microwave, permeating the air with the scent of ground beef and warm tortillas. “How’s our bomb looking?” Vorsch asked. Between the food in his mouth and his rumbling accent, it sounded like Howrse err bawmbuh lookeeng? “It’s done.” Echo took a bite of her own taco. “Speaking of which, I hope you’re ready to carry that thing. Anyone else here is going to break their back trying.” “And I’m only going to need a few visits to the chiropractor. Fun.” Echo flashed him an apologetic grin. “Way I see it, we all owe you drinks once this is over.” “How about a new set of golf clubs?” “You play golf?” “Yeah. Why?” Echo tried to picture the minotaur in a polo and ball cap, hunched over with a putter in his hands. “No reason.” The conversation at the table drifted into further small talk, where Echo learned more about Vorsch’s humble beginnings working at a Burger Queen, and Jigsaw’s curious fixation on the obsoleteness of sporks. The latter prompted a line of questioning surrounding chopsticks, but Vorsch made sure to step in before Echo could finesse the topic towards her obsession with Weland culture. “Why don’t the rest of you guys tell us a little bit about yourselves?” he said, leaning forward onto his elbows. “We probably won’t have much time to get to know each other once we land in Greenwitch.”
  14. Wade

    Hasa Diga Eebowai OOC

    @~Harlow. has been skipped, and it's now my turn to post. Harlow, feel free to post late if you get the chance.
  15. Wade

    Strange Occurrences

    Five drinks. That was how many he’d had. For some people, that was bad. Really, really bad. Downright catastrophic if you were feeling dramatic. Teddy actually knew a guy - Chipsy was his name - who’d ritually go to a karaoke bar on the second Friday of every month. The guy never really sang. Probably because he was deaf. But Teddy figured that even if your hearing wasn’t worth shit, there would always be something funny about drunk, middle-aged white guys wailing away to Rick Astley on stage. On one of those fateful Friday nights, Chipsy invited Teddy to join him. “Come with me!” Chipsy signed. “Okay!” Teddy thumbed back. Together, they frolicked to the bar, then started pounding back a few pints with the fervour of hot newlyweds. By the fifth one, Chipsy was looking a little red. He’d felt it was best he go to the washroom. Teddy, like the good friend that he was, waited for him without complaint. Five minutes passed. Then ten minutes. By the twenty minute mark, Teddy was getting a little concerned. When he went to go check out the washroom, Chipsy was gone. Like the wind, maybe, but to Teddy it had felt like more ABRACADABRA, MOTHERFUCKER! When he asked around, no one had seen Chipsy. Not the bartender, or the bouncer, or even the pretty mermaid who’d been making googly eyes at him all night. His only leads were a trail of vomit he found in the bar’s back alley, and five paragraphs’ worth of text messages that would’ve made Sherlock Holmes light his dick on fire. By the time he found Chipsy, it was three in the morning. They were at some tattoo parlour across from a Konkey Dong’s, where Chipsy thought he was getting a flamethrower but was actually getting a used tube of peppermint toothpaste. Why the tattoo parlour was open this late, Teddy would never find out. He would also never stop Chipsy from getting the whole tattoo in time. Not that he really cared at that point. Or could. Prowling the city all night had left him emotionally vacant, and he’d devolved into the energetic equivalent of a grade eight potato battery. The only thing that really mattered was that he’d learned to never go drinking with Chipsy again, and that was a promise he intended to keep. About a month later, Chipsy got a full tube of bubblegum toothpaste. In Teddy’s case, five drinks wasn’t a lot. He was a big guy, after all, with a mean metabolism and a liver of steel. He could go a whole night with twelve beers under his belt and still feel like a champ the next morning. That said, those five he drank just now? Gone in the span of half an hour. Anyone worth their salt would’ve needed a monk’s focus to keep their mind intact, and Teddy, having strangled one a few years back, was apprehensive about anything monk-related ever since. Already he was at the point where his cheeks started to tingle. His neck also felt kind of hot. For some reason, whenever Cindy offered him another pour, he felt the oppressive urge to say, “No Mickey Mouse stuff!” It wasn’t so bad, though, that he didn’t have a handle on himself. He’d gone to empty his bladder once now, and he hadn’t experienced any swaying. What that said about his dexterity, he didn’t know, yet he reckoned he could’ve juggled those empty bottles behind the bar if he really wanted to. Suddenly, just as he was about to cave in to the strange phrase’s mysterious power, a pack of hooligans exploded from the kitchen doors. Teddy watched them with a pair of raised eyebrows, then quickly forgot about them as they disappeared through the front doors. Shortly after that, someone with blue hair emerged from the kitchen. She was out of breath and clearly agitated, and oddly enough she was approaching him. Oh boy. “Excuse me!” she huffed. "Did either of you see which way those kids went?! They’re thieves! I must stop them!” Teddy looked the girl up and down. He decided to name her Exclamation. He lazily pointed towards the front doors. “They went that-a-way.” The doors seemingly opened in response. Teddy glanced over his shoulder, and now some guy in a ball cap was walking over. Apparently he knew Exclamation. “Oh hey,” he said, and it kinda sounded like Ball Cap was talking to him now. “You here for Harlow Foster, by any chance?” Teddy turned in his seat. I’ve been catfished, he drunkenly thought. Ball Cap- or rather, Harlow kept talking. “Saw gun specialist in your resume. You sure the rest of the team can expect not to have chunks shot off their asses when you’re seeing four of everything?” Teddy stared at the man. It took him a second to realize he was being insulted. “The rest of team?” he said, standing up. “Sure. But you?” Teddy leaned in, close enough to whisper. “I’m gonna tear that ass apart.”