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Gathering: The Garden of Good and Evil
Topic Started: Mar 2 2012, 07:01 AM (546 Views)
Ghost
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Phantom Software
PREMISE

Most men have a somewhat indirect relationship with the gods. They do not manifest on the plane of mortals; if they do, it’s a historic occasion capable of turning the tide of civilization. But communities around the world have always relied on certain special humans who seem to have an extraordinary connection to the world beyond, and can speak with the gods on behalf of their people. For ages and across the globe these gifted people were known by many different names—not all of them flattering—but today they are a well-studied phenomenon known as heralds.

Not only can a herald interact with deities on a stronger level than a normal person, but he or she can even form a pact with one particular deity. The two then become one; the deity gains a vassal in the physical realm, and the herald can borrow some of the deity’s power.

Though historically subjugated by military and political organizations, with time heralds learned to band together and use their power to gain independence. Ten years ago, an island off the southern coast was won in a war fought by heralds to have a land of their own. The new island nation, christened Manusya, enjoyed a short period of progress and industrialization, before collapsing into civil war thanks to the endless warring among political factions with different visions for the country. Today, things have stabilized somewhat, as the ruling Immortals have seized control of Capital City and kept everyone else at arm’s length. Regardless, the fighting continues every day and the fate of Manusya is still uncertain.

You play a herald living in Capital City. You have pacted with a deity and plan to use your power either to help any of the established factions, create one of your own, or simply reshape the world as you see fit.

SETTING

Gathering will take place in Capital City, the aptly named capital of Manusya. It is a bustling harbor town that developed on the eastern coast of the island. It is a subtropical environment, but summers can be as sweltering as winters can be punishing. The city is known for its irregular and sometimes extreme weather, with torrential rains and thunderstorms gathering with little warning. As the coast gives way to the center of the island it is taken over by a vibrant coniferous forest brimming with exotic flora and fauna. At the dead center of Manusya is the volcano Asura, which has remained dormant for decades.

Capital City is a massive port town facing a sparkling blue sea. The heavily industrialized harbor is the buzzing business center of the city. Although it has the highest concentration of heralds in the world, only about 10% of the city's population is a herald. The rest are already-established locals who were swept up in the revolution and emancipation. Their feelings towards the herald occupation are, for the most part, neutral-to-negative, as a decade has already passed.

There is a great gap between the rich and the poor in Capital City, and luxurious gated communities exist closer to the shore while the inner city gives way to sprawling, hastily-constructed slums where the poorest of the poor try to make a living. It is a multicultural, colorful, vibrant and dangerous city, technically considered a warzone by the rest of the world, although the violence tends to be restricted to certain areas.

On the southern end of the city is House Satis, the operations center of Goetia. On the northern end is Deva Fortress, the operations center of the Immortals.


MORE ON CAPITAL CITY

Posted Image

One million hours on MS Paint guys. No but honestly I know it sucks, it's just to show you where everything is.

Now, a short description of each of Capital City's six districts:

DISTRICT 01: The Harbor
This is where all the activity, the constant loading and unloading of cargo as ships come and go from all corners of the world, takes place. It's a very busy area during the day and also a typical spot for tourists. At night the taverns and brothels open for the enjoyment of sailors and workers and it is known as a rather shady part of town. There are a number of more reputable seaside restaurants and the National Museum is located here as well.

DISTRICT 02: The Business Center
The economic heart of Capital City, where wealth is generated and amassed. Tall skyscrapers, men and women in suits, coffee and fast food joints in every corner, five-star hotels, luxurious bars and restaurants, massive shopping malls, high couture, fashionable clubs and bars. It has a very active night life and is known as the safest district. The traffic jams that take place here during rush hour are well-known for being impossible to get through.

DISTRICT 03: The Kingdom
Informally known as the kingdom, this is the area where the Immortals exert their influence most effectively. At the northern end you can find Deva Fortress, which is often treated as a tourist attraction by foreigners. Overall it's a tranquil part of town with a number of shopping centers and residential areas. City Hall is located here as well.

DISTRICT 04: Gomorrah
Informally known as Gomorrah for being the sleazy district with all the bars, love hotels, crumbling apartment buildings, weirdo bohemians, stray cats, sprawling parks and so on and on. You could call it the artsy side of town or the seedy side of town, but Goetia's influence on this district is readily apparent. As mentioned, it is rumored that Satis House--their base of operations--exists somewhere in here, but nobody really knows where.

DISTRICT 05: The Neighborhood
This is the burgeoning working-class district of Capital City. The del Rey family's boarding house is located here. It is home to many small, family-owned businesses such as mom-and-pop shops, diners, convenience stores and pharmacies, as well as apartment buildings and boarding houses. It is known as the neighborhood because most everyone knows each other and is friendly as well as hospitable, but it's not a great place to be walking around at night.

DISTRICT 06: The Slums
Though some parts are much better than others, generally speaking everyone who lives in the slums is straddling or below the poverty line and simply struggling to make ends meet. Think shanty houses, graffiti-scrawled walls, massive apartment complexes with tiny rooms, dead-end alley ways, stray dogs begging for food, and so on. Evidently it isn't a very safe district.

Transportation throughout Capital City can be an issue due to its terrible traffic during peak hours of the morning and afternoon. A system of above-ground trains that run 24/7 and reach each of the six districts has alleviated this tremendously. Train fares are cheap and you can buy year-long passes.

Security is fluctuating depending on which district you find yourself in and whether it's day or night. The Capital City Police Department (CCPD) cooperates with the Immortal Patrol, an elite body of Immortals members who help keep the city safe. They are recognizable by their white uniforms, though there aren't nearly as many as regular police. It's uncommon to run into an Immortal Patrol member during the day. They only act if they witness property theft/damage or acts of violence. Though reception to them is generally positive, there have been complaints of brutality and discrimination perpetrated by Immortal Patrol members. They use no weapons, instead enforcing the law through martial arts and their boons as heralds.

FACTIONS

There are two main factions operating in Capital City: the Immortals and the Goetia.

The Immortals are a well-organized group centered in Deva Fortress, a heavily-guarded center where the heads of the organization reside. They consist of a core group of heralds who have made pacts with boddhisatvas, enlightened beings. They are officially neutral, but will pursue and punish anyone who perpetrates violence or incites riots. They see the Goetia with disdain as they are an unruly and dangerous bunch. The Immortals are very business-savvy and control much of what goes around Capital City's port, but redirect this money towards social projects dedicated to helping the needy. Naturally, they are the heroes of the people. Immortal guards patrol Capital City constantly in search for troublemakers.

The leaders of the Immortals are the Four Kings, four heralds who have pacted with the Four Heavenly Kings. Their primary goal is to establish peace in Manusya so that they can await the birth and appearance of the Enlightened One, the herald who will be able to pact with the great boddhisatva Maitreya, as then the world will usher in a new age of peace.

The Goetia is a haphazard group of heralds who have pacted with demons detailed in the Ars Goetia, from the Lesser Key of Solomon. They are dedicated troublemakers, often inciting civil disorder and undermining the efforts of the Immortals, their sworn enemies. They have no objective for Manyusa; instead, they wish to destroy any faction, such as the Immortals, that wishes to take the country into its own hands and direct its course. To them, Manyusa should be an anarchic nation ruled by heralds where everyone can choose their own path. But the Goetia is an organization only in the loosest sense of the term, and there are many appropriately loose cannons as well as individuals who may not necessarily agree with that philosophy of freedom and self-determination at all costs. It is believed that a center of operations for the organization known as House Satis exists somewhere on the southern end of Capital City, but no one knows its exact location.

Though members of the Goetia largely do what they want, they obey their own Four Kings, four heralds who have pacted with four King-class demons of the Ars Goetia.

PACTING

A pact is a vow taken by a herald and a deity to remain bound to each other; the deity obtains an earthly vassal in the herald and the herald obtains supernatural powers from the deity. A pact is very difficult to dissolve; for most heralds, it lasts their whole lives, and is certainly not something that must be done lightly.

Why do deities choose to pact? Well, successful deities, to put it that way, don't. Deities usually seek out a pact with a herald once they have been forgotten by their people and cast aside, wandering the astral plane as hungry ghosts seeking praise and tribute. Their goal when pacting is to turn the herald into a world-changing force who will gather a following and, by proxy, obtain praise for the deity. While some deities are exceedingly proud and will refuse to pact with heralds even if they have been cast aside for centuries, others are more than willing to pact with the first herald who crosses their path. Not all deities have noble intentions, almost all of them are inherently selfish, and their suggestions and whispers can drive a herald mad if he or she is not cautious.

SIGN-UP TEMPLATE

For the herald:

Name:

Gender:

Age:

Occupation:

Bio: What your character has been doing up to this point, how they pacted with their deity, why they are in Capital City.

Appearance: A brief description is fine.

Personality:

Equipment: If your character carries anything worth taking note of, do so here. It should be mentioned that many heralds consider combat with manmade weapons dishonorable and repulsive (read: Immortals), but that doesn't stop others from using them (read: Goetia).

For the deity:

Name:

Origin: (Mythological)

Description: What your deity looks like in the astral plane (pictures are fine for reference) and their general disposition.

This section should also describe how your deity manifests in the physical plane; maybe as a particular weapon or item, or as a small, animal version of itself, or simply as a faint glow in your herald's eyes. Your deity cannot manifest in the physical plane in full; at best it does so as a small and mostly powerless presence.

Boon: The powers/abilities that your deity grants to your herald. Be creative here, but remember that you shouldn't start out very strong or in-control of your abilities, as these will develop with time. Furthermore, your ability should, to some degree, be related to your deity's purview/mythological role/powers.
Edited by Ghost, Mar 5 2012, 11:43 AM.
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Ghost
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Phantom Software
((OOC: Hey guys, I figured I'd get the RPG started already to avoid losing momentum. You're welcome to post as soon as your sign-up's done with. If you haven't seen it I've added some extra info on Capital City to the first post in this thread, including a map.

Have fun!))

The Morningstar Hotel was a five-star resort that Adrian had never set one foot in. Just looking up the building's fifty-something glass-paneled floors made him a little queasy, but he had no choice. It was almost midnight in the business district, but since it wasn't the weekend the area wasn't exactly buzzing with life, with only the occasional group of co-workers out for drinks or drifting couples passing him by. He gripped the box in his hands and stepped into the lobby.

"Uh, hi," he started, scratching the back of his head as the receptionist gave him a tired look. "I'm from YPS? I was asked to deliver this package directly here to some Oliver D. Jacobs."

The half-asleep receptionist seemed to spring into attention upon hearing that name as he thumbed quickly through a small booklet on the counter. "Um, yes, we've been expecting you. Mr. Jacobs is in room 616. He's asked to have it delivered immediately. Please hurry." He gave Adrian a furtive look, as if both of them were in on some kind of secret.

Adrian shrugged and punched the button to get the elevator to come down. Smooth jazz was playing in the background. A single, rich woman was lounging on one of the lobby seats, touching up her makeup. The receptionist looked like he was going to doze off at any moment. It was odd to have to deliver a package to a hotel. Usually if the recipient had no current stable address he'd have to pick it up himself. Clearly this man was important enough for special treatment.

Readjusting his hair with one free hand in the elevator mirror, Adrian stepped out to the quiet hallways of the sixth floor. A vending machine hummed ominously beside him. Everyone appeared to be asleep. He made his way to room 616.

One knock on the door. Nothing. He was about to knock again when the door swung open, stopping halfway, and a pale, angular face peered through. He was a young man, probably in his mid-twenties, with snake-like green eyes and raven black hair falling in disheveled tufts all over his face. He was unkempt, with faint stubble and bags under his eyes, but still managed to come off as graceful and somewhat charming.

"Uh... Mr. Jacobs?" Adrian stuck his hands out in front of him, holding the package as if it were some sort of offering.

The man studied his face for a moment, tilting his head to the side. The movement reminded him of a reptile. After a few moments of tense silence a smile lit up his face and he took the package in his hands.

"Yep! That's me alright." The door opened a bit more and Adrian could see a figure lying on the bed in the far back. She was a beautiful, red-headed woman wearing a white bathrobe, but seemed rather bored, taking a drag from her cigarette every now and then and glancing at them with disinterest.

"Hurry up, will you."

Mr. Jacobs smiled sheepishly at this, quickly signing the papers and handing them back to Adrian. "Well! Thank you very much then." And with that he shut the door in Adrian's face and they returned to whatever it is they were doing, which wasn't hard to determine. Adrian stood, slightly dumbfounded for a few minutes, and then made his way back down.

***

The next morning Adrian checked his mail to see if he had yet been fired from YPS as a delivery man, but apparently there were no letters for him. He was somewhat relieved; rarely did he last more than two weeks holding the same job. Delivery work was kind of enjoyable anyway, and put his motorcycle to good use. Making his way to the business district early in the morning before traffic made movement impossible, he stopped at a dingy little diner for coffee and a cigarette, sitting back to pretend like he was reading the newspaper. A portly, middle-aged waitress poured him coffee with a smile as AM radio crackled on in the background. From here it was only five minutes to work. Adrian scratched the back of his head and skimmed over the articles.

A small portrait next to one of the column's titles stopped him. She was a beautiful redhead. In fact, she was the same beautiful redhead that he had seen last night at the hotel! With that Jacobs person! It only took him another second to put two and two together and realize that last night the woman he had seen at the hotel room was none other than Olivia Arnaud, editor in chief of respected periodical The Hari-Hara.

... He took a moment to consider that. If he were working for some sort of juicy gossip magazine, he would certainly have a scoop in his hands. But in his line of work knowing who was sleeping around with whom wasn't exactly lucrative. He turned to Materia's article for the day, which he always enjoyed, before taking another sip of coffee. Today he had to deliver a parcel to some sort of antique store.

((OOC: Adrian is currently in the business district and will be making a delivery to Hassan's antique store shortly. Everyone is welcome to start their characters off doing their own thing, but hopefully seeking opportunities for interaction. Soon enough the factions will make their move.))
Edited by Ghost, Mar 8 2012, 10:17 AM.
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Kurou
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Warden-Commander

In a four story building located inside the Neighborhood and just a short distance away from the Business District, Hassan Seif-al-Din and his employees prepare for another day.

The sign over the front door proclaims it to be "The Old Kingdom", with a selection in the front window showcasing the available common merchandise. Ranging from jewelry and clothing to furniture and books, there is a great deal of imported goods for customers (both local and foreign) to purchase from. Through a set of doors in the back lies the gallery of antiquities, available for browsing and purchase - for the few who can actually afford such items. All happens under the watchful eye of a pair of security guards and Hassan's assistant, not to mention the owner himself.

At the moment the doors have yet to open and Hassan sits upstairs at his desk with a cup of coffee raised to his lips, draining a bit of the hot liquid before lowering it to the desk. Not having to open quite as early as some other shops gave him a bit of time to enjoy breakfast and look over the numbers from the previous day. He had already taken care of the paperwork and was simply taking a moment to relax when a knock at the door brought an end to his few moments of quiet.

"Enter."

"It's about time, sir."

The young man that poked his head through the door was his cousin, Nasir. Younger by a few years, he had moved to the island from Cairo once business had taken off, and took care of the store when it was busy or Hassan was otherwise occupied. Having someone to look after matters while he dealt with valuable customers had made Hassan's job a bit easier, and he didn't mind helping family out when he could. He dispatched the man with a wave and stood, leaving the empty coffee cup on his desk and heading downstairs quietly. With any luck it would be another busy day, but in Capitol City one rarely knew what kind of "busy" they were going to get.
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Megatherium
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Hurrikan
Karel's days tended toward the boring and rarely deviated from routine. Today, however, he'd been waiting at the front of a shopping mall for at least three minutes before the shops opened. He left the store short some money from his personal fund, but plus one backpack. As he made his way back to the station wagon he drove (borrowed from his parents, of course, because the short-term jobs he took didn't easily enable him to afford a car on his own). Whipping the car's keys out of his pockets, he opened the trunk and grabbed a long, slender object and carefully secured it into one of the side pockets on his backpack as best he could. Having finished this, he closed the trunk, still holding his backpack. The backpack was placed in ths passenger's seat in the car as Karel got in, thanking his parents' foresight in getting one with a very roomy front seat. He closed the door and locked the car up.

He didn't start the car up right away, though, instead unlocking the glove box and withdrawing two sheathed knives. After a bit of thought, he decided to just leave them there. He locked them back in the glove box. He did, however, withdraw his wallet from inside his right sock and slip that into a pocket in his backpack -- one where it'd be well hidden, but where it'd be hard to filch without Karel noticing, provided he was wearing the backpack. His blowpipe was probably easily mistaken for a simple decoration, anyway.

Putting the key in the ignition and powering up the car, Karel relaxed into his seat before buckling up. The sounds of a beaten, old copy of Crisis? What Crisis? by Supertramp filled the car. Sure, it was a well-known band, but it was one of those ignored albums -- far as he could tell, that was still "hipster kosher." Even if it wasn't, screw what the other guys thought about it. As Karel buckled up, he breathed a sigh of relief. For the day, this was truly Karel's car. A bit old, a bit short on style... fitting. And the stereo was pretty solid for being as old as it was.

Carefully, Karel drove out of the parking lot at the shopping center. He had another stop to make before breakfast. He headed over to a small convenience store just within the more working-class residential area. He took the wallet from his bag and headed in. The rattle of a tiny bell, repurposed from an old Christmas decoration, greeted him, as did the sound of a song that he was pretty sure anyone would guess was from the 80s, judging by the synthesizers.

"Hey, man. Today's a Fixx day, eh?" asked Karel, leaning on the counter and opening his wallet.

"Yeah," said the clerk. "Same thing you come in here for every two weeks?"

"That's right," Karel replied. "Hold the donut, though. You guys still hiring?"

"You quit last week," the clerk noted.

"Yeah, and? I want to get my old job back. I looked at my bank account a couple days ago and realized I don't have as big a buffer as I'd want." Truth be told, Karel was kind of lukewarm at best to the job. It'd be great if it weren't for the customers.

"No, nobody's come in for your old job. I have an application. Bring it in soon and we'll see what we can do."

"Thanks." Karel took out a bill from his wallet and took the pack of cigarettes and job application the clerk gave him. "Keep the change."

"What change?" the clerk asked. "You're a penny short. But, well, we can let it go."

"Great. See you soon."

With that, Karel hopped into his car and drove off, looking for somewhere to eat. Karel wasn't a heavy smoker, but he always kept a few cigarettes on hand. Heavy smoking would get in the way of his blowpipe skills. In fact, he was probably holding himself back by ever having smoked at all. Most, if not all, of the cigarettes he ever picked up were used as bribes or other distractions, or given to his parents, but he had smoked a little when he was younger -- particularly to look tougher.

By "sheer coincidence," Karel stopped at the same diner Adrian happened to be spending the day at. As he got out of the car, he shielded himself with a newspaper as he made his way inside. His chances of being sunburnt were marginal in such a short walk, but it still didn't sound like a fun idea. Also, it'd give him something to read and probably laugh a little at. Or something that could contain a crossword he could pretend to do.
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trancehime
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BESESSENHEIT
Mashiro had been called into one of the larger offices at Syaka Publishing this day; his boss who domineered over oversaw the work of all the writers and editors of such of the magazine Nirvana was angry again. Why? That was anybody's guess; though most of Mashiro's peers knew it was because he was jealous of the prodigy's relative success in the journalism industry. The feminine man was standing in front of the desk of his boss Darcy Sanders, who incidentally did not look all that peeved to be calling Mashiro in this time. "Hey, you," Darcy seemed to sneer, though Mashiro had to strain hard to see that his boss was not in fact sneering and that was just his general disposition. "You know, I've got a scoop you could write about in our magazine, or hell, even in the Hari-Hara, but you're gonna need some... skills to pull it off. I know only you could do it." Mashiro scratched his head.

"Right, boss, what's up then?"

"You know the editor-in-chief, Miss Arnaud, right?"

"Um, yeah, why?"

"I hear she's been sleepin' about, you know?"

"Nirvana isn't a gossip magazine, boss. You and I both know we could get our heads on a silver platter if we wrote about that and it made it into an expose." Mashiro sighed and slowly inched his palm to his forehead. Was this guy nuts? He was willing to risk his own position at the company to try and get me fired? Get me killed, even?! Mashiro thought to himself, but then, he realized that this could be an opportunity to turn things around as well. He considered it. Darcy smiled wryly.

"I've got your back, count on it. I'll keep ya secured."

"Oh, if you're willing to take your word for it..."

"Oh, yes!"

"If you back out, I'm going to kill you, boss."

Darcy just laughed and treated Mashiro's threat as an empty one, and ushered him outside constantly mentioning things like "Alright now you have between now and the publication after the next issue to get this done!" before slamming the door on Mashiro's butt. The womanly man almost fell over, but was stopped by his coworker-cum-roommate Trish, a photographer and amateur camerawoman who seems to get wet from trying to dress Mashiro up. She looked a bit worried as she caught him falling. "Darcy's a bit hyper today." she duh'd, cue Mashiro sighing here. The floor of the agency itself was quite empty since it was ridiculously early, but Darcy was always the first one to enter and he always made Mashiro come in early. Trish came along today just for courtesy's sake, or she'd be asleep right now.

"You heard?" Mashiro droned out monotonously.

"I heard, yeah, totes," Trish squeaked. "I knew it! The rumormongerers were right! I got a message from a woman I know at the hotel saying some dude delivered a package to an Oliver Jacobs, who was with Ma'am Arnaud in one of them rooms!"

"Then I suppose our delivery man can help us out," Mashiro sighed. "It's one lead, anyway. Nirvana's a bi-weekly, so we have about a month to get the full scoop on this. I'm gonna use this opportunity to make it backfire on him..." he continued as he literally dragged Trish out with him. "We're goin' to our favourite ol' dingy diner down the street for some coffee first, mmkay?" Trish nodded in response and did not object at all. The two left the building where Syaka Publishing was housed and made their way a couple blocks down the street under bright sunlight ("Jesus Christ, this is freakin' hot, Mashy!") and found their way to the diner, where some guy who was shielding himself with a newspaper was walking out of his car and into the diner himself before the duo did. Mashiro tilted his head and both he and Trish entered the diner as well.

Mashiro spotted two figures of interest right off the bat; he had a knack for these things - one of them was the fellow who had just entered, shielding himself with the newspaper. The other one was finishing his coffee, reading the papers. Mashiro had wondered if Mr. Newspaper-Reader over there was reading his article today. It was part of his editorial series on street smarts. "Hey, Trish," Mashiro asked. "Did you ever find out what our delivery man looked like? I mean, you know, he delivered something to some guy who our editor-in-chief friend could have SLEPT with, yanno?" he continued, sounding conspicuously loud about the entire thing. Trish shrugged.

"Damnit."
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Hayakawa Ken
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It was a decent little townhouse tucked into the outskirts of what was known to Capital City as "The Kingdom" district, nothing so ostentatious as some of the buildings that littered the rest of the area, but still quite the high dollar residence. Indeed it never did stand out, most people just walked right by it, not even bothering to give it a second glance, that is, until recently anyways. Several loud noises, groans and moans, had recently been echoing throughout the day and night from within the building. The neighbors were downright spooked. They knew a couple lived there, a quiet bunch through and through, so that's what made it so odd. Rumors began to circulate that the house was haunted, but many argued to the contrary asking "Why now?" and "The Immortals would've known."

Sure enough though the sounds continued for several days, until today that is, when the sounds changed from moaning to shouting, threats, the cracking of furniture. This went on for several minutes, with quite the crowd gathering from the nearby buildings, all curious as to what exactly was going on. Indeed several were for calling in the authorities, and maybe even trying to get word to the Immortals to looking into this odd situation when the glass of the first story window exploded, a near naked man having leapt through it, seeming to clutch his clothes in one hand as he landed before the assembled crowd. Their eyes fixed upon him, all of them too excited to notice that despite such a feat, he wasn't even slightly cut anywhere on his body. The man payed them no attention as he rushed to get his pants, shirt, and shoes on when a beyond pissed looking gentleman approach the broken window from inside the house.

"I HIRED YOU TO FIND OUT IF MY WIFE WAS UNFAITHFUL!"


The near naked man replied, "And I did, you know now you can't trust that hussy!"

The angered man's arms shot up over his head, hands clutched in rage as he screamed, loud enough for probably those over in Gomorrah to hear, "I DIDN'T SAY SLEEP WITH HER, REPEATEDLY!"

The other man, who now was struggling to get his last shoe on looked at the angered man with an incredulous look on his face, as if he still couldn't understand why the man was so angry and shouted back, "Well it seemed like the quickest way to find out, so now about my fee-"

With that, the angry man somehow became even more furious, producing a large blade from seemingly out of nowhere as he began to stumble his way over the broken window pane, slowly coming closer to the now clothed man who could only utter, "Umm...you can mail it."

Slowly backing away, the supposed fornicator held his hands up, as if pleading innocence. The pissed off husband responded to this declaration by screaming "GET HIM, HOLD HIM STILL, I'M CHOPPING IT OFF!"

With that, the (alleged) fornicator's eyes widened, then widened further as he saw several suited, sunglass wearing security officers seem to appear out of nowhere, all trying to push through the mass of rubberneckers to reach him. In a near impossible act, he vaulted over the entire crowd, much to their awe, landing far enough away to begin running for it, but stopping to look back at the wide eyed crowd.

"Oh yeah, forgot, Moriarty, Victor Moriarty...consulting detective...don't let this little umm...snag lead you to believe I'm not effective...my card-"

Seeing the guards muscling through the crowd, Victor pulled a wad of cards from his pockets and tossed them into the air over the crowd, then turned on his heel and took off towards the business district, several suited guards right behind him, as he heard a car starting up and chancing a glance over his shoulder, seeing the blade wielding husband and several more guards beginning pursuit in a vehicle. Victor rolled his eyes, picking up speed as he wondered aloud, "How does a guy with a modest townhouse afford to keep so many guards on hand...and where the hell does he keep them?"
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Yuki
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Queen
Still wearing the black satin cocktail dress she had modeled earlier that day, Altanchimeg sat now in front of the large vanity mirror in the corner of her dressing room, wiping lipstick from her mouth with a somewhat serious expression. Though, her thoughts were not to the job she had just completed, but for the visitor who now stood full in the frame of her door, arms crossed tightly over his massive chest. His face was solid, eyes blocked by a pair of mirrored sunglasses that made his jaw look far more square than it actually was.

"Nice job today, Al." he said in a low rumble, the sarcasm in his voice even more audible with his gruff speech. Altanchimeg spun in her chair, legs crossed, to look her guest as best she could in the eye. Her mouth twitched an ever so slight smile before she leaned back against the tabular edge of her dresser.

"Oh?" she prodded, teasing the word on her tongue, "I didn't know they let vermin into those shows."

Her guest's nostrils flared, but he said nothing. Altanchimeg looked over her shoulder to a ceramic jar on the corner edge of the dresser, which she opened, slipping the crimson beads inside around her wrist.

"What do you want, Gu?" she asked, this time without protection. The question was tired. Annoyed.

"Have you forgotten why you were brought to this island?" asked Gu, not moving from his place in the doorway.

"I've not forgotten the annoyance of this organization." Altanchimeg countered, rising from her seat to walk through the door. Gu did not stop her, but did not move out of her way, making her step aside him to leave the dressing room.

"Where are you going?" Gu asked, not bothering to look over his shoulder at her. Altanchimeg, likewise, kept walking.

"That's my business," she hissed, "Maybe I'm hungry."
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Megatherium
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Hurrikan
Karel folded up his newspaper and tossed it aside gently. They'll print anything, he thought as the waitress passed by and poured him a cup of coffee. He took a sip of it and retched before adding a little cream. He wasn't one for black coffee anyway; he wasn't sure why he'd tried that anyway.

"Well, that'll certainly do. It was better than yesterday's, at least." He finished off his coffee quickly. Exhaling, he paused to consider if he should get food, and what he should order if he did. Sure he was a little hungry, but was the food trustworthy? He thought for a few minutes, but turned to look over his shoulder for a moment.

Karel was beginning to get a strange feeling about this area. He just couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched -- or that someone was being watched. Maybe it was the whole facility being watched? Regardless, it seemed like there was someone in the area keeping an eye on this place, as if something were going to happen...

He'd hoped for a quiet day. "Oh well. Hope I can get something quick. Maybe just toast and bacon..."
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Kai Yamato
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I see yoouuuuu
It's another typical day for Saburo, once again, he pissed off a motorcycle gang again. What he did to them is anyone's guess, but it must be big enough to make the entirety of the motorcycle gang to be hellbent after his ass right now.

"Saburo, we're going to get you this time!" The motorcycle gang leader yelled at him, in pursuit after the leather jacket wearing motorcyclist with his gang.

"Oh give it a rest already. If you can't catch me last time, what makes you think you'll catch me this time?" Saburo smirked at the motorcycle gang driving after him. He sees an alleyway, he drove there, losing the rest but some are still in hot pursuit after him. He sees a chain at the exit being held by gang members at each side. Acting quickly, he brakes, lowering himself while skidding under it across leaving the other motorcyclists to hit the chain held by their own members. He eventually find himself at a port, then next thing he knew, the rest of the gang come out from three direction amongst them being the alleyway he just exited, surrounding him.

"We got you surrounded! No way to escape!" The gang leader told him, smiling at their supposed victory.

Saburo analyzed his surroundings, they're at a port somewhere in the city. They got him in three directions, cornered at the docks, with no fourth direction... until he see a sheet of wood laying diagonally on top of a several crates. "Or is it?" He starts revving up his engine and start making a move for it.

"What is he-" Before they knew it, Saburo drove up the makeshift ramp and flew up into the air, landing onto the other side much like stunts you see in the Hollywood style movies. The wood sheet that composed the ramp then collapse itself, leaving no alternate route for the gang members to follow him to the other side.

"I'd love to play around but I got a job to do. See ya." Saburo does a salute before driving off, leaving the motorcycle gang leader to stomp his foot on the ground angrily like a kid on a temper tantrum.
Edited by Kai Yamato, Mar 11 2012, 09:33 PM.
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Ghost
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Phantom Software
((OOC: First of all, really sorry about how late this is. My connection was really spotty over last weekend, when I was originally planning on making this post, and then over the working week I got other stuff on my plate, but that's no excuse. In any case I thank you all for your patience and promise I'll be more timely about this from now on.

But anyway!))

D's DINER // THE NEIGHBORHOOD

It was the beginning of winter in Capital City, as Adrian observed. The sky was overcast and grey like a donkey's underbelly. It probably wouldn't get any cheerier as the day went on. It hadn't gotten very chilly yet but the cold gusts occasionally blowing down the wide avenues of the Neighborhood had some bite to them. Having finished Materia's article for the day and putting the paper down, he made his way out to pick up a blue YPS jacket that came complimentary with the job, which was draped over his bike.

Outside, a distinct hum emanating from his left pocket made him stop.

ONE IS HERE TO SEE YOU.

Adrian grimaced and retrieved a little skull-shaped thing, squinting at it in his hand. To everyone else it probably looked like some novelty keychain. The skull's jaw chattered, toy-like. Only he could hear its ancient voice.

ONE WOULD BE UNWISE TO OVERLOOK HIS SURROUNDINGS.

He turned and saw a distinctly effeminate figure and a distinctly effeminate companion. The latter girl was quite attractive and all, but... the first one had a very special kind of charm. He was sure that he'd seen her somewhere before but couldn't put his finger on it.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. Do I know you by any chance?" He leaned on the counter.
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