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  1. amenities

    Respect that Makes Calamity

    Rian broke his stride at Reginald’s snapping to attention. It was a habit born of caution. Reginald didn’t know Rian was a puppet, but puppets were just as valuable to Cain as real lives, which was a surprising amount. Regardless, the bistro owner deduced that Reginald’s demeanor was friendly enough, even given its context, and he put ‘er there in Reginald’s worm hand with gusto. His eyes held upon the glasses as he spoke, as if there were eyes behind them. As if there still laid the opus of Reggie’s consciousness behind those lenses. “Well, we’re a tricky folk who like to do tricky things.” Rian said as he swept a hand to the side matter-of-factly. Beside him, Andrew stood statuesque. His eyes didn’t possess any of the minor movements a typical human might, this puppet having served its purpose and thusly his motion shedding necessity. This same eerie calm was expressed in Rian’s eyes. They were softly downturned around the edges, like happy sadness, and his face was clean shaven; the neatness juxtaposed weirdly against blackened gums and cigarette-stained teeth. Just as Reginald was a composition of worms, Rian’s insides squirmed with the sentience of something else entirely. “Oh, the time?” Rian checked his brownish purple watch, looking back up. “It’s approximately half-past lunch on a late summer’s day in…. 520 AO! He grinned, exaggerating time grossly enough to where he thought even Reginald had kept track that this was humorously off. “No son, it is a meager 29 AO. The drinks are cold, the ladies are hot, and this deal I’m talking about is even hotter.” Rian nodded to the side, where a stump sat beside a small mound. He sat on the mound and leaned back, digging his fingers into the dirt as he did. “I’m somewhat of a broker for an organization who likes to move and shake from behind the scenes. We hold stock in companies and clubs by giving them an easier way to get what they want, and in turn we get put in charge. We get paid. We get to do, well, pretty much anything. BUT! And this is a big but,” he said, wagging his finger. “We can only do it because we’re smart. Because there’s always someone to take the fall before a certain group of cushioned individuals. “And I saw you in when that cell blew open,” Rian smiled and leaned forward, planting his elbow on his knee. With his other hand, he removed a roll of parchment sealed with a wax “C.R.” I saw a guy who might like being part of a group like that. A guy who was capable of pulling the strings from behind the scenes. Of course, with a little priming and some shaking off of the rust. Was that you I saw?” He asked the question with some confidence in what the answer might be that registered in a zesty degree of sarcasm.
  2. I need something more. I need something, war.

  3. amenities

    Project Destroy Tia

    Lookin' good fam, looking good. I know we're all grown-ups and have busy work weeks, but IT'S PRE-FRIDAY SO GET PSYCHED AND POST YOU MAHFS I know I am. Also here's your friendly reminder to tag everyone you're interacting with in your posts. @amenities @Wade @Mag @Stumbler @bfc @SweetCyanide @Grubbistch @danzilla3 @spacegy4 @-Lilium- @Hurttoto @Dolor Aeternum @ourlachesism @Zashiii @Roen @Aleksei @paradigm @PandaHat @Tyler @Metty @Ataraxy @Twitterpated
  4. You don't even wear other peoples' faces

  5. amenities

    To Fellows & Friends

    Shanti was, as always, the balm that relaxed Michael's aggravated state with the world. It was true that it took less to agitate him than the typical person, and that he had no contextual preparation for an encounter with Arashi, but Shanti's presence alone would likely be the factor that relieved the most aggression. There were always possible venues to the desirable outcome, but such things weren't easy to see under the veil of one's subjectivity, and it was undeniable that the constitutions of Michael and Arashi were rather extreme in their own opposing ways. Michael had been grinning at his own joke about Arashi when he saw Shanti's embarrassment, and in turn it elicited a small blush of his own; but the grin was still there. "Closing in on the catdragon," came the radio voice over the crystal below Michael's ear as Arashi told him her story. "Her name is Arashi," he said absentmindedly. Then, directing his voice to her, he continued. "It would appear that today is your lucky day." And indeed it was. Had Shanti not played mediator in the opening moments of their discussion, it could easily have turned into a squabble. "Since this all seems circumstantial and like you don't have the direction to be a consistent criminal, I think we can work something out where you do a couple jobs for me and we call it even." Michael looked at Shanti as if to say, 'is this how you place nice?'
  6. amenities

    We Can Do Both

    Cain stood there like an obedient monster, smoking gun held with a steady hand as Riforte circled him. No amount of sweet words and politick could mitigate the horror they held for him in their eyes. It was for first impressions like this that he lived. He didn’t do it for trophies or stickers. Hell, he didn’t even do it to be liked. He did it for the fucking recognition. Soon after establishing himself as a menace who trounced on the hierarchies they knew, Cain knew that he could easily twist such an image to be that of the benevolent and unquestionably reliable protector. After all, that was what he was to his real assets. Shane burst into the room with an insistence not unlike Isaac’s had been, and Riforte addressed the former slaves as they entered the room. It wasn’t so much Cain’s place to speak here as it was to do. So it was that, approaching one of the dancers with her male client, he chose to make an example. It was clear what their relationship was based on the fact that her top had been torn into an embarrassing position and she just stood there with it like that. He walked right up to the girl and stood between her and the man. The guy gave Cain a wide berth for understandable reasons, even as Rose holstered his pistol. “Listen sweety,” he said with his inside voice. “I can let you go right now. You can walk outside and I’ll make sure you get wherever you wanna go. You never have to come back here again, heck I’ll even offer you security to make sure none of these pervs come for you. But I won’t find you a job. We can’t do that for everyone here, ya know? “Or,” he said, scribbling a number and a short bulleted list on the pad. “You can keep working here for this much, with these benefits. Protection, healthcare, lodging, exorbitant wages.” He touched her ripped shoulder strap, then gestured to the guy behind him. “Nobody would be allowed to do stuff like this to you anymore. This guy comes in here to see you and he works for you.” At this point, many members of the club had hushed as much as possible in order to hear the specifics of what kind of deal could be cut by staying under the employ of Club Euphoria.
  7. amenities

    In the land of the blind [closed]

    Prose, in the likeness of Caliban, sat on a crate fiddling with the coil that generated his voice. When pressed into her neck it became part of Prose's disguise, but now as it rotated in her fingers, the tiny light of electrical current could be seen swiveling up its body every time she talked. It even lit up with micro gestures like the clearing of a throat or a concurrent "hmm." The clothing, brown slacks and suspenders hanging down around the crate, were real. They pressed against Prose's body awkwardly— honestly that had been the most challenging part of the thing. While the narrower scopes of her allegiances in this world had yet to be solidified, Letariat had morals that slavery and human trafficking fell outside of. As the totem sat erected between them, Caliban glanced darkly up at Jericho in the dim cabin. While she wasn't the type to hold to the straight and narrow, Prose wasn't faulty of loyalty. Justice had given her fins to move through this world, added some teeth to the fight should she ever need it. The fact that they didn't show any sign of letting her down showed her she could work with them as far as they'd take her. The question of one part of something being easy and another being difficult was the edge on which Prose lived. "If we can find a way to run a circuit between them, I can generate a current to stun them while we do what we have to do." While they neared their destination, the posing owner of Caliban and his handler laid out the the specifics of bringing Velleh down. Caliban's eyes, an interesting rendering considering his authentic had none, followed Jericho's movements with practiced interest. "What's that?"
  8. amenities

    Project Destroy Tia

    Yep! The day the IC began serves just fine as the date in question.
  9. amenities

    Project Destroy Tia

    Yeah I succ at T1
  10. amenities

    In the land of the blind [closed]

    Caliban's eyebrows wrinkled together in thought. Prose was not necessarily on a need-to-know basis, but she had been embroiled enough in her own embedding not to look deeply into the peripheral consequences. The ship her and Jericho shared a room on glided through the water with a level of hydrodynamics that rivaled any vessel she had ever used in her seafaring life. "Just that we have a desired connection for Caliban there. What was his name, what's the exact goal?" Caliban's private security detail was composed of a few individuals who were aware of the quarry at hand. One of them, however, was a loyal remnant of the old guard who had little knowledge that anything more nefarious than Caliban's typical happenings was underway. The squad acquainted itself with its new moving parts as they took to patrolling the vessel and managing the ship's crew, also a conglomerate of essential news and olds.
  11. amenities

    Destruction des morts

    There were good days, when things went right and everyone responded “good” to the question “how was your day?” Then there were bad days. Everything would go wrong; the flat tire, the garbage bag ripping, the randomly inescapable stuffy feeling in your sinuses or the bad weather. You could even get robbed blind or murdered. Being one such terrible day, the underbelly of Terrenus must have felt rubbed in the wrong way. Under the blanket of confidentiality that often accompanied disastrous intel, some gathered at chimichanga stinking water coolers in the stuffy back offices of government buildings. Some marched through the corridors of black towers or shifted on their thrones, eyeballing their officials like, ‘do something!’ Some, leering with giants and fire over the blushing horizon, took a more direct approach. Among all the things Schrei heard en route, something distinct she would not discern was the thud of a heartbeat coming from the First Officer. Instead of ears that could hear all it would take eyes that could see magic. Eyes that could see that his heart had become an elaborate encasement of seals. More than just a body run by the mind of Cain, this was a body that had once died, entirely held upright by the magic of Cain. He made use of, among other types of enchanted ink, a moving tattoo on his body (the Troll) to paint a library of runic language on himself and, when necessary, in the very air around him, that allowed him to tug this body and a vast variety of others without thought. Such required and sustainable equity of power could only come from compounding that of everyone he had gained control of and consolidating it in the most secretive of places. It was toward that Amalian consolidation that Cain, who owed to this the accumulation of his present personal magic, often gazed when he was caught staring into the distance; but this time he didn’t miss Schrei’s subtle nod or the quaking impact of the Kriegsreise landing on the outskirts of Tia. As the carriage slowed and they neared the Water Ablution Kormoir (WAK), she conveyed raw data in a way Cain had never seen the telepathic circles made use of before. She would receive a return stream of thought flowing from him that was impressed with her information retrieval and articulation capabilities by these means. Simultaneously, the First’s pupils dilated toward her at the actual contents of this data. “A distraction for our distraction! Beautiful,” he grinned with sharp canines. Schrei would begin to feel the rumble of something else than the fire king’s giants. Shortly after that, everyone would feel the rumblings. As if a portion of the city were possessed, or not a portion of city at all; as if it had been configured or disguised in the preceding of giant figures approaching the city. The spooling up of a massive faux-toin receiver also whined through the sky in the discomforting likeness of a tornado siren. As all of this occurred, the carriage pulled up beside a check-in station before the WAK. The door cracked as a distracted guard leaned forward. “ID please,” he said, head turned away from the carriage toward the source of the giant that had just apparently plowed through a section of city. He grabbed the black card protruding from the door almost without even looking before realizing it was black, instead of the uniform navy blue. That was when a spine of black lanced out and pierced his eyeball diagonally upward. It elicited a tiny pinprick of blood from the back of his head as he slumped back from the carriage. Cain leaned out of the door briefly, reaching through the window and pressing a red button to lower three pilons between them and the WAK. The horses marched forward, arching into the parking circle before the single story facility and stopping before the main doors. One guard armed with a phaser and radio exited the main door as everyone disembarked from the back of the stuffed carriage. It was immediately clear when at least three of the figures from the carriage— masked in the deathly guise of skeletons— marched swiftly straight for him what was happening. There was only time for one motion, the grabbing of his gun, or the pressing of a button that fizzled his comms mic to life. “ATTACK ON THE WAK! I REPEAT, THE WAK IS UNDER—” his radio transmission was cut short as his head rolled, a scythe-like arm extending from one of the two Dead Skeletons accompanying Cain. It didn’t matter though. If the arrival of the Kriegsreise hadn’t alerted all of Tia that shit had gone upside down, this transmission was the first official acknowledgement that the kingdom was under attack on multiple fronts. The facility’s door hadn’t been locked, as typical protocol dictated a warning from the gate if anything was awry. Cain and the Skeletons entered, two more guards with their weapons drawn in wait standing ten feet away when they rounded the corner. "Freeze!" @Mag @bfc @SweetCyanide @Stumbler @Wade
  12. amenities

    Project Destroy Tia

    With the bolded statement as a must, I absolutely encourage reactions like that! @Ataraxy
  13. amenities

    Project Destroy Tia

    Idk which one do you wanna be? You can also just be Neutral if you're not sure 🙂 Also yes, the city is full of vampires. As simply put as possible, it's also full of squads of humans called Rooks who are capable of dealing with them using blessed ammunition called X. Caliber. All these groups can be NPC'ed to a certain extent, beyond like wiping them out or controlling all of them inexplicably.
  14. amenities

    Project Destroy Tia

    I liked it! So @Aleksei will take the Titans but Fuererkonig can still deduce where they're coming from. So come @ me bro just not yet >.>
  15. amenities

    Looking for Mercenaries, Killers, and Operators.

    I'm going to wrap it up in a few days if nobody posts