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Charli Foxtrot

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Charli Foxtrot last won the day on October 18 2016

Charli Foxtrot had the most liked content!

About Charli Foxtrot

  • Rank
    Counsellor Troi
  • Birthday 02/03/1982

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  • Yahoo

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  • Gender
  • Location
    Clemson Sux
  • Interests
    Astronomy, Astrology, Geology, Reading, Writing,
  • Occupation
    Administrative Assistant (read: secretary)

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  1. I can't really explain because I don't know what's going on myself. We've suffered a massive internet security breach, our accounts all up and down the web being compromised and used in the most hurtful, damaging ways. Facebook, Pinterest, Twitter, etc. We're shutting down all existing online communications until we find out what, who, why, and how. When I finish this post, I will be logging off, changing the password (not that that's helped so far) and not using this account any further. So if "I" send any PMs or make any posts, it's not me. I won't be back until this is resolved. Sorry gang.
  2. Is Geomancy considered magic? How would you describe its common use as being subject to the Law of Equivalent Exchange? Edit: Or, thinking of how people's houses are often made from Geomancy, the Law of Chaos?
  3. Events were rushing past Janessa like whitewater, and she struggled to keep her focus on her work. Several corked vials lay scattered around her. Sulfur-rich black powder from the guts of a signal flare was reacting with muriatic acid, ready to be mixed with her makeshift choleric base; a similar concoction, heavier on brimstone but sans acid, had already been tucked onto her belt. More flare powder was reacting with a more diluted acid, distilling out impurities and (hopefully) leaving the zinc and manganese behind. Just as she was getting ready to carefully add a pinch of rat poison into a solution of nickel (scraped from the rust-resistant plating of an iron tent stake), filtered water, and antimony (in the form of black-colored eye makeup), the airship gave a mighty lurch. Her corked vials rolled away, and the small woman's face took on a look of panic as she gripped the rat poison tightly in her left hand and snatched up one of the rolling vials, already starting to bubble from the agitation, with her right, pressing her thumb down hard on the cork to keep it from popping off prematurely. "Dog damnit!" she swore. These conditions were about as far from ideal as she could imagine. Trying to craft alchemical concoctions out of only what she had been able to pick up from a camping store, in a swaying airship, while a queen screamed, a fae cooed comfortingly, an elf made condescending remarks about Janessa's near-term life plans, and now a big, brutish grandpa stomping around and splitting his time between cuddling Gabriela and asking useless, irrelevant questions. It was entirely forgivable that she didn't notice the more subtle things, like how her enchanted bracelet dimmed and became cold as the field of neutrality settled over the vessel. The bubbling in the vial in her right hand subsided, and she gingerly let her thumb off the cork before setting it down and resuming her careful, if rough, measuring of the rat poison into its own mixture. With that delicate task completed (and the vial corked), Janessa looked up at Reinhard. Her brows were lowered in an expression of equal parts suspicion and annoyance. She had registered, on some level, the queen's plea that this man's throat not be slit... currently, that suggestion was being taken under advisement. "You can call me Kit," Janessa said, reverting intentionally to her mercenary handle out of caution. "Preferably in the context of 'How should I proceed, Kit?' or 'Kit, what would you like me to do?'. There's only room in this ragtag parade for one bossy bitch and I already have dibs, so you need to stow it." She stood up to her full, unimposing height and stretched out a kink that had developed in her back. Janessa threw a glance at her reactions; most were ready, but a couple needed a minute more. She began gathering up the prepared ones and affixing them to her belt. "Since you asked so nicely," she continued, "Yes, Gabriela wanted to flee. No, I don't know why. Above my pay grade. She puts down the agenda, I just make it happen. This particular version of 'fleeing' wasn't the original plan, it was kind of shoved onto us by Tall, Dark, and Creepy up there. Obviously, our lady trusts him more than your boss, though, which tells me pretty much all I need to know about Roen. Since I'm pretty sure Captain Asshole is fantasizing about clubbing us to death in our sleep and turning us into undead coal-shovellers for his engine room." She flicked her wrists, testing her quickdraw sheaths; both throwing daggers popped smoothly into her hands for a moment before she drew them back in, nodding with approval. "So it's equally accurate to say we're running away as it is to say we've been kidnapped. Call it 'coercive hitchhiking'."
  4. Janessa listened to the Queen as she snatched items off the shelf. She was surprised, but not shocked; Gabriella's identity was the missing piece of information that explained several mysteries, both during their time together and now. She entered the dressing room with her clothing selections while Gabriella was talking about how she may not be able to defend the girls, how she might be overpowered. As Janessa was pulling on black leather pants, a fair approximation of her old ones back at her family manor, she let out a low chuckle. "I guess we all have our secret identities, Your Highness. I wasn't going to share, but since this is going to be much less stressful without you going on about how we need your protection every fifteen minutes..." She fastened a belt around her waist; not as many pouches as she'd like, but it would have to do. "A few years ago, my little brother and I were runners for the Elf Liberation Front, a sort-lived resistance movement dedicated to ending the reign of the king. I was a kid, what do you want from me? Anyway, when that bit of nonsense was brutally smashed, I ran away. She buckled a leather jerkin over top of a fine cotton shirt, and adjusted it; her goal was a perfect balance between protective utility and a little bit of tease. Men were so easily distracted by a little bit of tease. "Long story short, I became a mercenary in Alterion, did some high profile jobs for Regent Osa herself, then had to come back after some political bullshit went down. I joined up with the most successful bandit clan in Badlands history; we plied our trade up and down the hills north of Blairville for over a year. When that ended poorly, I found myself stranded in Blairville just as the Maddening Mists thing happened." Janessa pulled on her new boots; the soft, supple leather giving pleasantly to her testing flexes. She smiled in spite of herself. Did she miss adventures, or not? She still couldn't tell, but she did miss this feeling of competence. She let her hair down and stepped out of the dressing room, favoring the Queen with an elaborate bow. "Your Highness, may I present to you: Kit Schicker, Breaker of the Blairville Spire, and Liberator of Last Chance. With some others, natch, but still. And now, I'm appointing myself your official bodyguard." She turned to look at Eluvie, and grinned impishly. "How about you, short, sweet and sexy? What's your secret identity? Wait, let me guess; you're actually a Peacekeeper. Am I close?" Janessa giggled. ---- The trip to the airship involved much less talking on Janessa's part. She followed the Queen quietly, paying careful attention to everything that entered the field of her senses. She was especially intrigued at how their "savior" remotely controlled his airship with an apparent wave of his hand. How had that been accomplished? Was he signaling a pilot? Was the ship equipped with some kind of ultra-sensitive motion sensor? If she planned to hijack it, she'd need to find out. Having her own airship was going to be totally awesome. Once inside with the door closed, she immediately dropped into a cross-legged sitting position, spreading out one of the fine silk cloths she'd purchased as a work surface. A mortal and pestle, herbs, vials, and skins of water were produced from her multitude of pockets. The jostling of the ship and the panic attack of the Queen made her work difficult, but not impossible for someone whose fingers were as sure and nimble as the little thief's. Herbs were quickly crushed, combined, soaked, and shaken; the formulae produced were of undoubtedly the lowest possible quality, what with substitution ingredients and a schedule that allowed no lengthy reaction times. That said, they were better than nothing, and shipjacking was way too difficult to do with knives alone. Janessa did not look up from her work, barely even missed a breath as the bellowed words echoed through the airships passageways from above. "Everybody stay put," she said calmly. "This is the best possible circumstance for us. We stay out of the way, let them fight, then when the winner is knocked around, bloody, and celebrating his hard-won victory, I'll slit his throat and we now own our very own airship, in which we can go wherever we please."
  5. Janessa's posture and activities did not change as the man entered the building. She continued browsing the shelves while her sharp mind calculated distances, trajectories, escapes, witnesses, and most importantly, timing. She was small. Not as small as the fae one, but small enough. Any action she performed would have to be performed at just the right moment, the moment of maximum effect. Janessa idly put her left hand up her right coat sleeve, looking for all the world like she was scratching an itch. It was an easy maneuver to fake, because she was scratching... a few bits of the magnesium into the firestarter oil, which she sincerely hoped was naphtha-based and not something more exotic. The lump of her hand under her sleeve made a rubbing motion, quite natural after a good scratch, and also quite natural to wrap a small handwarmer pack around the vial. Adept as a magician, both of her hands returned, empty, to full view and she resumed her carefully oblivious browse. Waiting. The man took one step into the shop. He threw a bag of coins (allegedly) to her Lady, who thankfully didn't open it. Lots of things other than coins could be in there. Asps, for example. Not that she'd ever used that trick before. A friend had. Not even really a friend. A distant acquaintance. She barely even knew her. Him. Barely even knew him. Her attention was focused, from the corner of her eye, on the man's rear foot. One more step forward. Ideally, step forward and do a quarter turn to square up on the Mistress. She mentally urged their pursuer forwards. One more step. Take one more step. Step and square. ....but instead, he backed up. And out. Out was also the direction of Janessa's breath, which, she noticed, she had amateurishly held in anticipation. It was probably what gave the gig away, even if the ebon man hadn't consciously noticed. She shifted the makeshift concoction to a more secure location in her sleeve, now that she was no longer in the stranger's line of sight, and fixed the queen with a piercing gaze. "Sure, what the hell? Why not get on a complicated magitech transportation device so we can be completely at the mercy of a mysterious man who just slaughtered a patrol of city guards and is clearly a threat to our lives? Sounds like my kind of party!" Janessa snatched up the pouch of gold on the table and held it so the top pointed away from her friends before carefully tugging open one edge of the bag and bracing herself. Assuming there were no asps, explosions, or escaping gases, she took a quick, rough count of the money inside. "Then again, he's more or less got us cornered, and he did give us enough scratch to shop like there's no tomorrow... which there might not be if we're not super careful. So we should at least take him up on that part. Grab some baskets, ladies." She didn't know what the others would be buying, but Jan knew she could make use of quite a few items on display... maybe sooner than anyone anticipated. Keeping ahold of the bag of coin, she made her way to the section labeled "Field Medicine"... but not without snatching a small pair of leather boots on the way. It wasn't quite an alchemist's shop, but it would have to do. She doubted their "benefactor" would let her make another stop. She was careful, however, to keep her Lady in her periphery. The woman was clearly unpredictable, and couldn't be let out of her sight if she was to be kept safe. Safe-ish.
  6. I know I kind of budged last time but do you want to go next in Downpour? <3

    1. Charli Foxtrot

      Charli Foxtrot

      Sure! Is @Alekseistill AFV? Or is that a silly question? :grin:

      I can't promise a post today, but I can have one up tomorrow.


    2. Aleksei


      You all are more than welcome to continuously skip me until I jump in again. 

  7. Looks like you've got plenty of takers, darlin'. I'd be interested, but I have a lot going on IRL at the moment, and none of my available Terrenus characters seem especially suited to diplomacy. Not that I'd normally be adverse to making another, but circumstances being what they are, I may end up on an extended AFV in the next few weeks and would hate to join just to leave you hanging when I'm now aware of such a possibility. I'm flattered that you thought of me though!
  8. Janessa started to reply to her Lady, to express that ten minutes in a crowded area would produce enough coin to charter their own airship if that's what the Mistress required, when she heard the whistle of a strange bird. She didn't recognize the species, but she recognized the purpose. She was skilled in quite a few of those herself, thanks to her time with her ex-bandits. "Signal call. Fuckity fuck fuck." she muttered. She didn't bother looking for the source, even as Elie picked it out and cheekily whistled back; that information would be irrelevant as soon as it was gained, and the time lost would be irreplaceable. "Yes. Hide. Quickly. We're being followed by someone who follows people for a living." It could have been anyone from slightly more sophisticated street thugs to the King's own secret police, and Janessa didn't want to find out at swordpoint. Without further hesitation, she followed Elie into the shop, wincing visibly as the bell above the door rang. While Elie spoke to Gabriella, Janessa began running her practiced eye over the layout of the shop, noting pathways, exits, wares, customers, employees, stairwells, windows, and any other features that could be useful should the situation deteriorate further. "I'll give you threes-to-ones that he already has," Janessa groused as she noticed a saleswoman take note of their presence. "My theory is, he had a backup team watching us, waiting to see if we'd take the opportunity to bolt. Which means no real point in trying to be sneaky, we just need to be smart and fast." "My face is known in Blairville... in a good way, mind. But in this situation, I don't know if there is a 'good way'. I vote we make for the river; it's the shortest travel time on the roads, and we'll be impossible to track once we're on the water, unless they're close enough to get on the same boat we do. We may be watched, but if we can stay four or even two hours ahead of our pursuit, we'll be in the clear as soon as we hit the ferry." Janessa made a show of purposefully surveying the products on display, carefully picking up and examining something every now and again, or pushing items aside to get a view of the items behind them. "I'll stay here and keep an eye on that door. M'Lady, you need to try to keep anyone from seeing your face as much as possible, so there are fewer witnesses to answer stupid questions like 'did you see this broad?' and 'which way did she go?'. Eir, you and Elie deal with the help and get us some equipment. I don't care what we walk out with as long as it's better suited to mud than this floofy crap we're wearing. Please for the love of dog, don't forget boots. We'll ditch our clothes and change at another location. Oh, and if anyone hears a ruckus from back this way, get yerselves straight up gone. Don't worry about me, I'll catch up." As she spoke, the very astute, quick-eyed observer (and none other) would catch the slightest glimpse of small, handy items disappearing as Janessa casually meandered past. A couple vials of firelighting oil, a magnesium striking stone, a spool of fishing wire, and other odds and ends seemed to go missing, though it's possible that they were simply rearranged behind other objects during the young woman's browsing. It was really hard to tell. Maybe they weren't ever there at all?
  9. Hey there pretty lady! When are you going to be bopping around these parts again? I've a very bored Chromillia who's rather tired of time being stuck who'd like to be fighting some baddies at a particularly haunting location.

    1. Charli Foxtrot

      Charli Foxtrot

      You are such a tease, darlin'! :kiss:

      I'll be happy to restart that any time you want to make a new post! Can't promise quick reaction times, though; I'm busy pampering my wife to make sure she doesn't try to use her broken hand (much to her dismay). :grintears:


    2. Fae


      I believe the last time we left off it was Ataraxy then yourself, lovely. Would you like me to go ahead and just start a branch off of where I was headed and have you respond to that, then? 

    3. Charli Foxtrot

      Charli Foxtrot

      Yes, that's a fine idea! I'd be more than happy with that! 

  10. [internet security edit] @Fallen Joy @Pasion Pasiva @Aleksei @jack-attack
  11. It is a show of my great faith in and love for you that I will not open those spoiler tags. Because I know we're going to finish our Hauntsong quest. .....someday.
  12. Might want to update this to indicate that the market is un-back, again. For whatever reason, my phone marked this thread as having new posts and I got way too excited for a second.
  13. I'm not sure what to do now. Robbie Rotten has left Val, and hasn't responded to questions. So do we want to continue this thread, and/or Clan Valkohyr, without him?
  14. "If something happens to me?" Janessa barked an unladylike laugh as she moved to walk alongside her Mistress. "All due respect, my Lady, but that's adorable! I'm the one who'll be making sure nothing happens to any of you!" Jan's eyes scanned the street and her stride changed, as much as her dress allowed, from the tiny, demure steps of nobility to a long, silent stride with her shoulders back and her eyes wary. It was like a switch flipped in her mind; she was looking for threats and opportunities, enemies and marks, secluded escape routes and crowded thoroughfares. Her prior habits of being, not yet entirely broken to begin with, reasserted themselves as if she had just been on a brief vacation and now it was time to go back to work. "I notice your guards have gone AWOL. Are we going to have to worry about the city watch, or do you have that covered?" She approved of the older woman's pace; it would draw no extra attention. Anything faster would be noticed as out of place. Her mental map of the city flashed in front of her, highlighting the local points of interest: her old forger, a couple of fences, a safehouse for thieves she used to frequent, climbable spots on the city wall, and various other "nightlife hotspots". But to plan a route, she needed a destination. "So where are we going and what will we need? You thinking we might get into a bit of wetwork? Because if so, I'm gonna suggest we make a couple of stops." Jan glanced at her Mistress's face and thought she might have detected a hint of skeptical incredulity there, or maybe it was just what she expected to see. She couldn't tell.
  15. Me: Baby, have you seen my cigarettes? Liza: Didn't you just bring them in from the truck? Where'd you put them? Me: If I knew, why would I be asking you? Liza: Retrace your steps. Me: I did! I brought them in, got an ashtray, went to the kitchen to get a beer, and now they're gone! Liza: They're not gone! Me: They're gone! I don't get it! They're not in here, they're not in the kitchen... Liza: What's that sticking out of your pocket? Me: There's nothing in my pocket! These aren't even real pockets! Liza: Not your jeans, silly, your hoody pocket! Me: [Pulls pack of cigarettes out of my hoody pocket] Liza: That Alzheimer's is a bitch, huh?
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