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Post by hermes on Jan 18, 2010 3:13:12 GMT -5
Prime shook the sharply dressed man's hand, and his eye's narrowed upon hearing the information he had.
"Oh, indeed?" Prime asked, fingering his blades. "Perhaps I'll have need of these after all. And yes, you do have quite an eye for art, it could be considered a sin to use these in combat. The sai and wrap are both of modern design, but the blades they contain are each around three hundred years old."
He smiled, "Anyone willing to drop about fourty grand could get their hands on a set." Prime shook his head sadly, "Waist that. Far to many of these on a mantle piece somewhere in the world. These should be standard equipment for special ops."
Prime put his hand lightly on the man's should, and started walking a little further down the car, until he was sure they couldn't be overheard.
"And which man are we talking about now?" Prime asked quietly, "There are quite a few people I'd be willing to stick a sword in, for my own peace of mind, or that of my friends. But...its becoming a rather long list."
Prime hand twitched slightly.
OOC: Anything else? What'd I miss? Anything Eragon should be in? I've been so busy I couldn't keep up with the topic for a while.
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Shoni
Joyeuse Insurgency
Posts: 191
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Post by Shoni on Jan 24, 2010 8:23:48 GMT -5
On the last stop before the ocean only one person stands waiting to bored the train. He was standing there his dark blue tuxedo blowing in the wind he took of his top hat revealing hair that was as white as snow yet he was no older than 14. His white hair waved in the gentle breeze as the train drew closer he grabbed his bag and got on bored.
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Post by ch00beh on Jan 24, 2010 10:46:00 GMT -5
OOC: hello shoni go make yourself an introduction topic because i don't even know who you are
I will post in here sometime in the future. maybe even today! Just to spite Lee.
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Post by ch00beh on Feb 1, 2010 11:26:10 GMT -5
Nick double checked the speck in the sky. He pressed a button installed under his left temple causing his left eye to zoom in on. Yes, there were people flying. Hopefully they had tickets and weren't just trying to crash the train, but that was not his job. He jumped down on the caboose balcony and entered the train.
The engineer was suddenly aware of his need for sustenance. He cheerfully made his way to the closest diner car.
"Hello, I would like some food. What do you have?"
The chef behind the counter responded, "Well, the menus right here, sir."
Nick took the piece of paper and looked through it. "I will have a delicious hamburger."
"Alrighty then, if you'll have a seat upstairs by the bar, I'll bring it up in a bit."
Nick nodded and took the small staircase up. He smiled at the bartender and sat down by the window.
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Post by Lady Kara on Feb 2, 2010 23:10:24 GMT -5
OOC: I'm wondering where this journey shall take Nagisa. After all, she received her ticket under mysterious circumstances (a contest that she never entered; she naively thinks a friend might've entered her in it). Someone really wanted her to be on this train, and possibly for dark purposes. Another thing - she's the future bride of Avian Ryora, and he has lots of enemies who'd love to do something awful to her or even kill her just to get back at him. And then there's the fact that she's a fullblooded elf of the Drakyan tribe (elves that have a strong psychic link with dragons and are able to telepathicly speak to them; appear youthful for all of their lives, able to live as long as 5000 years, and it's believed that they literally have the heart of a dragon).
Nagisa wasn't sure what to make of the man who'd just so rudely started talking about Helen as if she were some kind of queen or other epic figure of a person. And was he using that as some manner of flirting? Ick... But nonetheless, it was interesting to have someone apparently be a fan of Helen's magic trick skill. Though it made her a tad nervous when he commented on neither of them fitting in a box to be sawed in half. She knew the trick behind such illusions, but anything involving a blade made her uncomfortable since accidents could happen - even if she could easily protect herself from serious harm using some of her magic.
"Good sir, I certainly do hope that you weren't insulting my height at all. Ah, but no harm done. You apparently seem to know quite a lot about Ms. Mercury, unlike one such as I who didn't even knew she existed until a few minutes ago."
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Post by Ninety on Feb 3, 2010 14:54:22 GMT -5
Kyle roused himself from his nap just as a man entered his bar. Kyle returned the man's smile then wiped the sleep from his eyes and the drool from his mouth as the man walked away and took a seat.
"Waiting on an order, sir? Care for a drink while you pass the time? The cook's probably just firing up the grill; we haven't had many customers yet. I've got liquors light and dark; beer, draught and bottled; wine, from cheap to fine; as well as soda, juice, coffee, and tea. Oh, and milk too. And water, if that's your thing. What'll you have?"
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Post by The Evil Biscuit on Feb 3, 2010 22:46:32 GMT -5
'Oh, hey. We're coming up on the fun part!'
Creed had nodded off for a brief moment, but the whistle of the center console roused him to action. They were leaving the first leg of their journey and nearing the second jaunt, a long stretch of crystal blue water that some called the Pacific Ocean.
'Move on over, Burt... Bill... whatever. Just move.' Creed muscled the apprentice engineer aside and began twiddling the knobs and flipping the toggles.
'Look here, kid. When the relay timer counts off, flip the central damper and give it throttle. The engine will take care of the rest. Got it?'
Burt or Bill gave him a look that Creed had once seen on a cow just before his three-boiler mowed it down.
'sigh... When this says zero, push this. Okay? I'm going to the rear to check the rudders.'
___________________________
Creed made his way backwards through the cars, nodding and smiling politely at the people he passed. As he passed through the dining car, he heard Nick's voice muffling through the floorboards. 'Might as well grab a drink - once she's in the air, it'll be autopilot til' Shanghai.' he mused.
He eased his way up the stairs and waved a hand at Nick and Kyle.
'You boys ever seen a train fly before?'
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Shoni
Joyeuse Insurgency
Posts: 191
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Post by Shoni on Feb 4, 2010 16:52:07 GMT -5
OOC: Thank you choob for helping me make my post easier to under stand I have trouble with punctuation, sorry for the inconvenience .
"The young teenager sat in his room looking out his window, wishing he would make a friend on the train. reaching into his suit case, he took out a black rag doll with a white face. it had a black circle for its left eye and a black cross for the right one and a black smile with black stiching running down its face. carefully setting it at the head of his bed he stood up and walked to the door to get some supper. "
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Post by ch00beh on Feb 5, 2010 10:46:54 GMT -5
OOC: Shoni, you need to get some punctuation in your life. It makes things much easier to understand; otherwise it sounds like you'retalkingreallyfastandnoonewantstolistentothatorattempttounderstandsuchaclusterfuckofwords. I will attempt to translate your post by only adding commas and periods, and you can tell me if I'm right.
"The young teenager sat in his room looking out his window, wishing he would make a friend on the train. reaching into his suit case, he took out a black rag doll with a white face. it had a black circle for its left eye and a black cross for the right one and a black smile with black stiching running down its face. carefully setting it at the head of his bed he stood up and walked to the door to get some supper. "
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Post by Tout-Perd on Feb 9, 2010 3:15:07 GMT -5
OOC: I don’t believe Eragon has anything to deal with at the moment, seeing as how Natalie snuck off and is having a girl-talk with Emily right now. Though, by all means, feel free to have him pursuing a scene on his own or such. That is, after all, the main perk of the Luxury Rides.
BIC: “Three hundred years old? Impressive!” Orville clapped Prime on the back, smiling broadly.
“Truly, with heritage like that, it would be a shame to sully them on the issue at hand. For I am not talking about a physical threat to either of us… Far from it,” Orville sighed, cocking his head slightly.
“You mentioned a man, Nopcsa. The fellow from the Fascere Order, no?” Giguere waited until Prime affirmed the statement.
“He, unfortunately, has also taken a great deal from me. When his organization was supposed to protect my mansion…” He shook his head, and looked out the window.
“As I implied earlier, I’m a collector of fine antiquities. That’s my greatest pleasure in this life. However, those miscreants… They mislead me, and then made off with some of my most valuable possessions. The same that they were supposed to be guarding.”
His gaze snapped back to meet Prime’s, his golden eyes gleaming dangerously. It seemed that the pupils had narrowed to catlike slits.
“You’re a savvy enough traveler to know… When one has the blood of dragons in them, you do not meddle with their treasure,” Orville’s voice was a sinister growl, and there was a faint smell of smoke in the air.
“Nopcsa, one of the two men to have deprived me such, is somewhere on this train. I checked the ticket reservations.”
“If you will aid me in hunting him down, then we both may go about regaining what is rightfully ours.” -------- “Um… Uh, hey, Emily,” Nat said, trying to shift her posture so that her friend’s shoulder wasn’t pressed against her throat.
“I’m doing okay, I guess. I’ll be doing a lot better when I get some of that steak from first class in me, though, y’know? I skipped lunch to make it here on time, so it’s been forever since-“ Natalie paused. Mentioning food or hunger around Emily was a crapshoot. Half the time, the girl would present some delicacy beyond the dreams of even professional chefs. The other half of the time, Emily would produce some bizarre concoction likely only before existing in the works of Doctor Seuss, and then use her hungry friends as guinea pigs.
“But yeah, I’m doing… Good, I guess. A few friends of mine aren’t in touch any more, but that’s just… Well, how it goes.” Natalie put a hand on the window, the glass fogging up at her touch.
“Why are you so sad?”
Oh boy, here it was. That was not the question she needed to be asked. But… Well, this was Emily, after all. That girl had a superhuman knack for asking those kind of things.
“Emily… Ender, you know? That guy who helped us out that one time, with the sunglasses, right? He’s…” Nat sighed, and let her shoulders slump forward. Her head banged on the glass.
“Well, he was kinda my boyfriend for a while. Sorta. And then, em, well, now…” Nat swallowed painfully.
“Now, he’s dead,” Natalie noticed Emily sagely nodding.
“No, I didn’t kill him!” She palmed her forehead. She wasn’t sure what the baker was thinking, but a key detail like that was important to get out of the way. ------- “Greatest magician of our time? Hardly. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, that outclass me. However, the sentiment is appreciated,” Helen took a deep breath, trying to force the blush from her cheeks. Yet again, she had been singled out.
“Yes, I’m one of the many entertainers they’ve hired for the ride. I’m not really performing much these first four days, but I am doing one show each… Night, I guess you’d call it? This global travel thing does do a bit of mucking about with our normal timescheme I suppose.” Helen glanced over her shoulder thankfully, regarding a clock on the wall. A set of black hands indicated the time at the present in the Archipelago’s timezone, while another in silver was set to track the time once they got farther away. Whomever had engineered the train did not miss a single detail.
“If you’d like to be called up as a volunteer, I suppose that I could bring you up at some point. After all, I do need somebody to be the subject for my ‘invisible stairway’ trick,” Helen’s smile broadened. Using true magic for performance was not nearly as secretive of an art as sleight of hand. She could reveal whatever she’d like about her performance, and as long as nobody else had the raw magical potential required to ape her tricks, she’d be fine. Nagisa’s comment snapped her back to the conversation.
“Admittedly, I am a bit of a niche preference, so I could see how you wouldn’t know of me. I try to be as memorable as possible, but there’s only so much that can be done with live-performances.”
Helen didn’t elaborate farther. Most magicians needed some airtime on television to truly become household names. That was certainly true. But for a Power, one with rumored ties to the Summoners, no less, landing a spot on even a local news segment was borderline impossible. She could only hope that her actions here might open up something in the way of connections to friends in high places.
OOC: Ehhh, uneven post on my part, but it deals with 3/5ths of my cast on this train.
Are we going towards Asia or out into the Pacific? I had assumed into the Pacific and had been planning accordingly, but I can work with either way. I'll just reverse my "random encounters" chart a bit.
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Post by Cendra on Feb 13, 2010 1:31:12 GMT -5
Telrien continued to move toward the back of the train where she hoped she would find some tools of some sort. Though, seeing as she wasn't that familiar with trains and what would be where, she wasn't really sure she was going the right way.
“It's either in a storage car, way in the back,” she thought, “or at the engine, in the front... Ugh... Never wearing heels on a train again. Never. A-gain.” Her last thought was followed by a grimace as she slipped both of the troublesome shoes off and massaged her feet for a moment before putting them back on and continuing on her way. Entering the next car, she found that it was the coach dining car.
“I knew this thing was long, but really?” she questioned under her breath. The scenery out the window caught Telrien's eye. The sky was clear with only a few clouds and the Ocean flashed by. Sighing, she slumped down on one of the seats.
“There's no real hurry to get the tools anyway... Maybe I really do need some decompression time.” She thought absently as the view set her in a trance-like state. Her time of piece was broken, however, by the sight of Orville and some new companion of his, out of the corner of her eye.
“And so Mr. Eloquence returns..." Telrien rolled her eyes at the thought.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Mar 8, 2010 19:41:15 GMT -5
"Oh -- no! No no, ma'am, I'm the last man on earth who should be making light of anyone's height. Well, all right, maybe not the very last one... I do think they've got a guy in China or somewhere with only two feet to him. Maybe it was Singapore. These two feet are a measure of height I mean of course, not a count of extremities..."
Massimo would have allowed himself a chuckle at this one, but it didn't look as though he was going to get any takers and he was not in the business of laughing alone. Fair enough. It hadn't really been an especially good joke anyway. He decided to change the subject.
"Maybe I can trouble Ms. Mercury to introduce you? I'm Massimo Giarrettiera. A pleasure to meet you." He held out his right hand. Upon further consideration, he lifted it by a few degrees.
* * *
"'Ere we go. Christ."
Cesare pushed open the door and went up the stairs into the bar. Two men in working clothes there. Mechanics maybe. Didn't seem none too becoming for them to mingle with the guests in that kinda outfit, but looked like it was cool with the bartender and honestly whatever was cool with the barkeep was cool with Cesare.
He regarded the bottles lined up beyond the bartender with a slowly spreading grin, even though his thick eyebrows didn't lift at all.
"F*ckin', we are on. The shit begins here. Bear witness, fellas. I got no reason to move from this stool until we are in f*ckin' Czechoslovakia. I am in the mood. Tell me buddy what your liquor situation is. Let's start with the expensive shit and see where we end up from there."
* * *
Nico looked up. There was a faint tapping sound overhead.
Nothing on the ceiling that would be making that noise. Something on the roof, then. Nico leaned back against the cushioned seat and tilted his head to listen with one ear. They sounded like footfalls.
In fact, given the progress of the sound from one end of the cabin ceiling to the other, it sounded exactly as if there was someone walking atop the train, crossing the roof of the car.
The tapping passed.
Without making a sound, Nico stood up off the cushion and eased the door open. He took a single step out into the hall, halved by the doorframe. He listened. The tapping proceeded down the car.
It didn't particularly occur to him why he decided to slide the cabin door shut and follow underneath this person who was walking atop the train. His curiousity had been piqued. Perhaps it was one of the two flying people from before. Nico had looked back out the window now and then, but he'd never seen them.
He hurried ahead a bit to the end of the hall and opened the door onto the next car. Again he took a single step out. The walker atop the train would pass overhead in another second. Nico pushed up his glasses.
OOC: I worry that I'm writing Shouta when I should be writing Cesare. And I can't get a lock on Massimo's voice either. Good thing Nico barely ever opens his trap. That's Rie he heard if it wasn't obvious.
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Post by The Evil Biscuit on Mar 12, 2010 13:28:40 GMT -5
'Try the Wheelman's Reserve.'
Wally gave Cesare a knowing glance as the hulking man maneuvered his way onto the adjacent barstool. He raised a half-empty glass of smooth amber in greeting.
'We use two bottles on every flagship carriage. One we smash on the boiler as a christening. The other stays behind the bar. Private stock, you know.'
The grizzled conductor sipped at his tumbler slowly, savoring the flavors.
'Call it bad luck, but I couldn't bring myself to throw away a bottle of such fine brandy just so the press could have a picture show. Waste not, want not, and all.'
He grinned, amused at his own little deception.
'I filled the christener with apple juice.'
He gestured to Kyle. 'Get this man a pull of the Reserve. House tab.' A bell chimed overhead, and Creed's ears perked. That was the five-minute bell; they'd be hitting open water soon. He hoped Burt or Bill had the sense enough to keep them from derailing over the continental shelf.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Apr 2, 2010 0:04:16 GMT -5
"Her name would happen to be Nagisa... Davarin, was it?" Helen frowned slightly, and cocked her head. The hat moved with her, nudging open a swinging door on an overhead compartment. Helen sighed, and reached up.
Without looking, she touched the door and firmly pushed it closed.
“I swear... Cabinets and chandeliers are my mortal enemies,” She adjusted the hat once more, “And those old fashioned chandeliers, loaded up with those drippy candles? Those things are like a deathtrap for me. I've lost more hats...” She shook her head, and fell silent.
“Nothing of concern, though.” -------- “The blood of dragons?” Prime stared into Orville's eyes. The man wasn't joking around. His gaze was steel, his expression seemingly neutral. The swordsman could still feel the seething rage coming off of the rich man, however... It was just as palpable to him as the rumbling of the train beneath his feet.
“Indeed.”
“You're not the only one with an inhuman heritage here...” Prime extended a hand to the red-clad man, revealing the design etched on his palm. Orville seized it firmly.
“Or the only enemy of Nopcsa aboard this train, for that matter,” He broke the handshake, and grabbed one of his swords lightly by its hilt. He'd be ready.
“Impressive,” Orville said, an odd smile touching his lips, “I thought you were good, but just seeing you get ready to use that sword... Impeccable! Forget what I said about it being a shame to sully that blade! No, it'd be a shame not to use it! I earnestly must say that I could not have chosen a better partner in this venture! This will not be revenge, it shall be art!”
His hands were clasped together before him, almost childlike in his glee.
“I'll go ahead, and see if I can flush out our quarry. Nopcsa can't read my mind, so it's doubtful that he'll know what's up before I lead him back to you,” Giguere trotted off without another word, his demeanor evident in his steps. He pushed into a crowd of loiterers, and was gone before prime could mutter a swear under his breath. ------- Nopcsa sighed, glancing at the end of the line. His contacts were running late, his head ached from the constant low level mental murmur in the sheeplike masses around him, and he wasn't free to do as he pleased on one of the swankiest rides he had been on in years.
One would almost think that Auguste was intentionally toying with him. This was the sort of assignment you gave the greenhorn newbies, not the best agents on hand. Telrien was good, but she was new. This was a good mission for her. Giguere was new, too... But Nopcsa didn't even want to think about that man. All it ever did was bring to mind the ever entertaining layers of being pissed off and feeling mildly guilty about fleecing the man.
“Order?” A grudging voice smashed into his consciousness. Of course. Now that he lost in his reverie, the teenager tending to the coffee kiosk was ready for him. He halfway wanted to shoot back some remark about 'Not anymore if they keep dicking around with me like this.', but quickly thought the better of it.
“Gimme something strong and black. Like Mr. T., but a coffee.”
“Very witty,” The girl reached over and grabbed the same pot as everybody else had been getting their orders from. She jammed a lid onto the styrofoam cup, and slid it across the narrow counter.
“How much?” Nopcsa didn't need to ask, but again, pretenses. He was already unhappy.
“Two dollars and fifty cents,” The server's eyes flicked to the line behind the mindreader, and then coasted back to him.
“Wonderful. Here you go...” He scooped the cup up with his left hand, and winced. There was a streak of boiling hot coffee running down the far side from him. The change clattered brightly as he tossed it onto the counter.
“Don't worry about getting promoted to a better car with that cute sous-chef nearby. They're only looking for people who didn't f*ck up three jobs before landing here, Sunshine,” He spun on his heel, still fuming slightly. The adrenaline had been a bit much, and he had to cut himself off before he dealt any more verbal kidney punches. His hand was shaking... Oh, no, wait. That was just because the coffee burns. He took a sip, and almost spat it out. Vile stuff... Coffee with supposed to be earthy, but this one had what was almost a fecal note to it.
Granted, life in Hawaii had acclimatized him to some of the best coffee that the world had to offer, and the Fascere Order never scrimped on that detail. With operations worldwide, jetlag was the foremost complaint of almost every operative. Bar the one that was temporally displaced, but nobody cared about hi-
A clear voice sounded in his head, the most focused and direct he had heard since his last encounter with the telepath from Whelkshore. End-something or other. This guy was like that. Focused. Zen. Whatever.
And his voice said only one thing.
“I'm going to kill you, Nopcsa.”
He threw his coffee cup into the nearest ashtray. This was a bit more of an issue than getting his coffee fix. ------- “They're getting ready to take off, judging from the way it's moving,” Thyra tried to shout loud enough for Zebedee to hear her clearly, pushing her voice to a level of volume it hadn't been heard at in a long while.
“Best to land, then, right?” Zebedee's response was nonchalant. His partner couldn't be sure exactly how he had gimmicked his voice to make it clear, but he certainly had too many ways for her to bother keeping track. He vanished, green sparks hanging in the air for a moment before dissipating in the wake of the train. A moment later, he was resting atop one of the first class cars, seated firmly despite the winds powering past him.
“Of course, don't take me along with you. Sensible,” Thyra murmured with a faint smirk. She angled her arms differently, gaining speed with an almost immediate jolt. Her altitude dipped lower, bringing her in close to the side of the car.
“Aaand...” She bit down lightly on her lower lip, and her fingertips rippled experimentally. This'd be a tricky stunt, even if it all went perfect. She let the force flowing from her left arm fade, pushing as much as she could into her right. It threw her into a barrel roll over the back of the train, sending her tumbling past Zebedee. As she hit the far edge, she pushed her left into full power again, and let her right go quiet. With the kick from the change, she rolled back to the center. A hand caught her shoulder, steadying her. Zebedee.
“Nice flying, there,” He wasn't smiling as much as when they were flying before, but his eyes still had a bright gleam in them.
“You could have just given me a hand,” Thyra responded. Her tone was warm, despite her words.
“And denied the audience such a show of aerial supremacy?” Zebedee jerked his head slightly. She followed to movement, and spotted half a dozen first class passengers on one of the balconies, watching them. One had a camcorder.
“Zebedee!” Thyra ducked behind him, towards the front of the train.
OOC: Not liking my writing this time, but it's not bad for a return to RP after however long a hiatus, no?
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SV
Friendliest Member of ALL TIME
The Friendliest Member Of ALL TIME
Posts: 2,250
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Post by SV on Apr 3, 2010 16:18:09 GMT -5
The door slid open, and Sarosin paused to take in the sight before him. The room was virtually empty, save for a few unimportant people here and there at tables, a younger blue-haired man, and a shrouded figure reaching for a beer glass with bony fingers. Soft light twinkled off the bottles on the shelf behind the reaper, amber liquids and colored bottles gleaming like stained glass. He approached the bar, nearly reverent, and took a seat.
Motioning toward the youth's glass in a manner so as to convey he wanted the same, Sarosin pulled out his new wallet for examination. It was well-made of exquisite leather, not too stiff but not too worn. A fine donation from a wealthy contributor -- but on this train, what else was to be expected?
He thumbed the billfold open; a veritable sheaf of crisp bills fanned open to greet him, none of them smaller in denomination than a twenty. He left one of these (as a thank-you) and pocketed the rest furtively.
An ossified tap on the counter alerted him that his beverage was ready. Sarosin thanked Death most sincerely and took a sip. It was heavenly. He wondered immediately who he had to thank for this treat.
He flipped the wallet open, located the driver's license, and prepared his highest exaltations for...
Cesare Giarrettiera.
Cesare…Giarrettiera.
Giarrettiera.
Oh dear.
Hailing from the continent, Sarosin Narita knew pitiably little of the politics of the Archipelago underground. But Giarrettiera, that was a name he recognized; and unless he was quite mistaken, the Giarrettieras held a significant amount of power in the region. And here he was, holding the wallet of one of the family.
How...
Fortunate.
Sarosin snapped the wallet shut and restored it to his pocket. How absolutely fortuitous. What a better place to start his search than with they who were most likely to know of the shadier goings-on? There would be the matter of the purloined wallet to contend with, but he was confident they could smooth that over. For now, there were many things to consider.
He took another swig. Over the rim of his glass he could see the blue-haired kid again. Something about him seemed familiar, and really, how many people had such an unusual hair color? Admittedly, a lot more in the Archipelago, but...
Oh wait. That's why he looked familiar. Setting his glass down, Sarosin wiggled a finger in the youth's direction. "I know you," he declared with a slight grin. "Yoshimitsu, right? It's been a while, how've you been?
OOC: Edited to make it easier for BFF to respond =)
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Post by Beelzebibble on Apr 29, 2010 20:25:53 GMT -5
The orangish liquid splashed down into the glass, which made a short journey across the counter into the meaty hand of Cesare. "Thanks, pal," he said. He held up the glass. Smelled good. Reminded him of something. He couldn't tell what exactly, he was just getting deja view. He took a sip. Well god damn. He'd forgotten how sweet brandy was. Hadn't had any in years. F*ck, this was the stuff. Kinda tasted like plums. Christ, and the warmth -- he'd felt it right away. He could hike the Himalayas with this shit! Leave the parka at home! He took another, bigger gulp. He sniffed it again. Kind of a woody smell to it maybe. From the barrel, he guessed. Oh. Oh shit. Cesare took another swallow. He knew why this seemed familiar. An image swam up in his memory: a dimly-lit underground room filled with barrels and racks full of black bottles. Everything looking taller than it should've. He'd been smaller then. Wheelman's Reserve tasted exactly like that stuff he'd gotten ahold of that time that he broke into his father's wine cellar. He was nine. He'd made Nico help him. Kid had been, what, six. They popped open the most exciting-looking bottle Cesare could find. The liquid was kinda orange, like this. Tasted just as sweet, too. And of course, Massimo, thirteen or whatever, had taken it on himself to be the little angel and rat Cesare and Nico out. Not that he'd really needed to, I mean all that puke everywhere had kinda given shit away. Cesare chuckled. He didn't know why. Just seemed funny all of a sudden. Even the part where he and Nico'd gotten a beating and lived on bread and water for three days. Even how Nico wouldn't so much as look at him for a week after that. He took another sip and grinned. That was dad. See maybe Cesare was supposed to have some Edible complex or whatever now, getting beaten as a kid and all, but f*ck, that was just his dad. Lucio Giarrettiera'd been a bastard all right, but he'd known how it was, the whole thing. He'd understood. And he might not have taught Nico, and he definitely hadn't taught Massimo, how it was, but he'd taught Cesare. Life lesson number one, father to son: rule by goddamned force. How did you run a ship? By being the hardest sonofabitch on board. If that meant knocking a couple teeth out when your sons stepped out of line, so f*cking be it. Massimo'd never figured that out. Massimo thought he could rule the organization by talking his way through everything. There you go. That explained what a shitty don he was. Right there in a nutshell. Anyway the brandy in the cellar had been worth it. He'd run the glass dry. He thought about this for a second longer than he really needed to, then he looked up at the bartender. "I'm gonna need another one of these," he declared. "Yeah. That's next on the game plan. Definitely gonna schedule a round two." After sliding the glass back down the counter, he grabbed his wallet out of his left pocket. Or at least he tried to. Actually all he felt in there was his keys. He felt around in the other pocket. Just the cell phone. What the f*ck. He patted all of his pockets. He looked on the counter. He looked down by his feet and out across the floor toward the staircase. No wallet. What the f*ck. "Hold up!" he told the bartender. "Hold up. Shit, I don't have my wallet. I must've..." But he'd had it when he'd left their cabin. He knew that! Solid fact! The guy he'd run into. Oh shit. Cesare whipped out the cell and dialed his older brother. "Come on, come on," he muttered. Massimo's voice. "Yes? What is it?" "Mass. Get over to the bar. Not the first class one, the normal one. I need you to pick up a drink for me. Pay you back later." "And the reasoning there is...?" "Listen, my wallet's gone," Cesare snapped. "There's this f*cker I think stole it. Ran into him out in the hall. 'S wearin' a big tan trenchcoat. I gotta go find him." "Okay. Understandable. Still, the usual advice about making sure he's guilty before you snap his neck, Ces." "No f*ckin' promises," Cesare said, and hung up. He turned back to the counter. "Here," he said to the barkeep, "my brother's comin' by to take care of this, okay? Little guy. Mostly bald. Yellow tie. I need to go find my wallet. "Argh f*ck," he added as he bounded down the stairs and pulled open the door. He hated trying to talk to Nico on the phone so he'd just text him. * * * Massimo closed his cell phone. "Well, ladies, excuse my rudeness. Apparently I'm required for what is surely my favorite activity of all, bailing my brother out of a financial mishap. Do you mind doing me a favor, though? If you happen to see his wallet lying around anywhere, let me know, would you? It's Cesare," he added to Helen, "the big one. Not the bespectacled heartthrob who so deftly swept you off your feet on the platform. Thanks very much. I'll see you again!" * * * From: Cesare some dickwad in a trenchcoats got my wallet. if you see him hold onto him for me okay?The chime of the phone upon receiving the text had obviously made Nico's presence clear to whoever was on the rooftop. He could only blame himself for not having the foresight to turn off his phone, thus leaving the opportunity available for his older brother to audibly intrude. Nor was he honestly surprised that Cesare had managed to lose his wallet. Since there was no longer any use trying to surprise the figure above as he or she passed overhead, Nico closed the phone and simply said aloud, "Why are you up there?" His eyes were not focused on the edge of the roof above his head, but out at the sea. OOC: After doing so much writing for Renard, deliberately letting Cesare botch the spelling of "deja vu" really tickles me somehow.
Anyway I'm feeling better about Cesare. Still kind of feels like a cross between Williams and Shouta (and definitely some Sikes, the guy from Ishkasix), but not all of my characters can have elegant, articulate narrative voices. I'd hate that anyway. Wouldn't be fun for anyone.
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Post by The Evil Biscuit on Apr 29, 2010 22:27:08 GMT -5
As the cumbersome mafioso went about scrabbling for his wallet, Creed patted his own pocket; his shirt pocket, where he'd tucked his watch. He withdrew the timepiece, a simple chain pocketwatch, trimmed in steel that was anything but stainless. The rear cover had once born an inscription, but pitting and copper marring had all but worn it away. The glass was chipped around the edges, and hairline scratches offered a hazy view of the yellowed paper patch and aluminum dial underneath. He paused for a second, feeling the weight in his hand. He'd had this watch since his fifth birthday. This watch, for all its sordid appearances, kept perfect time.
'Ah, yeah. That'll be my cue.' He stood, making a half-hearted gesture to Kyle's bar. ' Lock everything up. We're airborne in three.' he mumbled as he made his way forward towards the engine.
_________________________
'Awright, Brent, move it on over.'
The kid had clearly been hoping Wallace would return - the pallid look on his face told the old wheelman that he had no idea what to do once they ran out of track. But then again, who did? Trains ran on rails, with wheels. They had one direction: forward. Who taught aeronautics to conductors?
Creed settled into the pilot's seat and began flipping switches.
'Sit back, Bob. Take a load off. Learn something.' he chuckled as he eased a dial back, elliciting a low thrum-thrum from deep within the engine.
As Creed worked, the King Thomas began to tremble and groan as the locomotive made the necessary transformations from railcar to air transit. The heavy diesel in the nose closed its valves, separating the block from the central camshaft and shifting the engine to its new purpose: assisting the 72-cylinder nitromethane workhorse nestled inside the length of the locomotive's cylindrical body. With no motor spinning the axles, the train was coasting along, slowly but surely losing speed. It would not be a significant change, and by the time the jets fired for takeoff, it wouldn't even matter.
A great blast of steam and hydraulic exhaust shrieked from shutoff valves as the body cylinder split into six equal lengths, fanning out and sliding back to reveal the billeted steel exhaust pipes that would vent the nitro's explosive gases into the atmosphere and help cool the monstrous engine.
Creed reached up above and flipped a series of toggles. Runners along each car began to slide and shift into place, forming tapered wingtips that would help keep each car upright and streamlined. The train continued to roll, and the twinkle of blue water could now be seen on the horizon. 'Runnin' low on track here, ain't we?!' the conductor cackled, punching more switches.
A stacatto of shrill popping noises, like a gun shooting steel rivets, echoed along the length of the train as the couplings holding the wheels in place let go and retracted. Once the train was airborne, the wheels would fold up into the undercarriage and be stored until needed.
A red light blinked overhead. Wallace smirked. Time to use it or lose it. He grabbed the hand radio from its cradle and held it against his stubbled lips.
'Ahh... this is your captain speaking. In approximately sixty seconds we will be making our transition from surface to air travel. At this time the crew of the King Thomas would like to ask that all passengers take your seats and buckle your safety belts, as we may experience slight to moderate turbulence upon takeoff. Please make sure all bags and belongings are securely stowed either beneath your seats or in the labeled baggage compartments. Again, we will be airborne in sixty seconds, so all passengers please take your seats. Thank you.'
He hung the radio back and glanced at Brock. 'Sounds reeeaaal professional, don't it? They don't teach that in train school, that's for sure.' He turned back to the controls, placing his hand on a chrome and vinyl-wrapped throttle. He eyed it carefully. The red light blinked faster, and a warning klaxon began to peal quietly.
'You ready for this, Burt?' He was staring straight ahead, completely focused. His young co-pilot was glued to his seat, ashen and trembling.
Creed smiled. 'Yeah, me neither, kid.'
The red light flashed green. Wallace slammed the throttle forward.
There was a terrible silence. The train shuddered and went silent, gliding on the rails with a ghostlike calm.
Then the nitro ignited.
A sound, like the end of the universe, only louder, erupted from the engine. Great flumes of shimmering air leapt from the violently shaking exhaust, gouting one hundred feet into the sky as the locomotive suddenly lurched forward, carrying its passenger cars along with it with an unexpected burst of speed. The sound pulverized Creed's gut, chattering his teeth and pounding his eyes like pinballs. Everything was vibrating, slamming together, beating an impossible tempo. The train moved faster, and faster. The noise increased in pitch and intensity as the King Thomas neared liftoff.
Just when Creed thought he wouldn't be able to take any more of the tremendous noise, the train groaned and eased skyward. There was a secondary rattle as the wheels began to fold inward as each car slowly rose off the track, and soon the whole of the Thomas was airborne, snaking into the clear blue Pacific sky like a great steel dragon. A yellow light blinked, and Wallace slid the throttle back to halfway, cutting the horrendous engine roar down to a low grumble. His ears were ringing, bad. His teeth hurt. He'd never had more fun in his life.
He looked at Burt, who had turned the color of spoiled eggs.
'Goddamn, that's fun!'
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Apr 30, 2010 12:17:21 GMT -5
Yoshimitsu's eyes flickered to the door when it slid open, watching a familiar figure walk in. It wasn't surprising that he'd see someone he recognised, all things considered. He couldn't quite place this man, however, so his gaze lingered for a few moments. The man walked over to the bar. Not wanting to appear creepy or inappropriate, Yoshimitsu averted his eyes quickly and looked around the rest of the room. Once he was certain the not-quite-a-stranger was preoccupied, he turned his head very slightly to look at him again.
Now that was interesting. The man was taking out some form of identification. It was highly unlikely he was going to get carded. Unless he was just confirming it was still there... But that wasn't right either. A brief look of surprise, then interest shot through the man's features. Yoshimitsu thought a little harder, choosing to look away again. Now where was this man from...
Oh, of course. Sarosin.
Just as he came to this conclusion, Sarosin beckoned him. With a small smile, Yoshimitsu approached the no-longer-a-stranger.
"Sarosin, hey," he greeted. "I've been alright. Same as ever with me, really. Back to the chaotic old life. How about you?"
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Post by Cendra on May 7, 2010 14:20:40 GMT -5
Telrien saw the dark look that crossed the face of Orville's, now armed, acquaintance. Actually, it was more than just a plain dark look, she decided, it was more murderous than anything else. She hadn't been quite close enough to hear the whole exchange, but she knew enough to assess it was definitely time for her to retrieve some things she had in storage.
Rising casually from her seat as to not draw attention, she walked the rest of the way to the storage car. The door to it was locked, but Telrien made short work of it and was soon inside within a few moments. She winced as she saw all the other bags that had been put in storage.
"At least I decided to put it all in the yellow case. There can't be that many of those." but as she looked at the pile of luggage it was apparent that at least a few people had had the same idea.
"Time is a little pressing, but who knows, maybe I'll get a little something outa this." Grabbing the closest yellow case to her, she started "investigating". "Snooping" just didn't sound as professional. Opening it she found to both her disappointment and maybe a bit of excitement, that it wasn't hers.
"Might as well..." A childish glint flashed in her eyes.
About five minutes and three yellow bags later, Telrien had a wallet, 200 dollars, a nice looking watch and her very own yellow bag. She emptied the content, putting it into an easier to carry, black bag and exited the scene. Turning she made sure to lock the door behind her before continuing a little more brusquely toward where she'd come.
Everything seemed to be about the same as it had been when she left the dining car. Except for a little more commotion over by the bar. Apparently some guy had been robbed by someone in a trenchcoat.
"What did he expect wearing that fancy tie? It pretty much screams 'I have money!'" She rolled her eyes as he continued his rant. "In any case, I need to keep my eye out for the others of my trade. I'd feel kinda dumb if I didn't see it coming."
Just as Telrien was about to move into the next car, a voice over the intercom blared over the noise of the chatting people.
"In approximately sixty seconds we will be making our transition from surface to air travel..." A confused expression planted itself on Telriens face.
"You're got to be kidding me. Trains aren't meant to fly." But as absurd sounding as it was, people were scrambling to take a seat so she awkwardly followed suit.
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Post by ch00beh on May 8, 2010 5:04:11 GMT -5
"I will have a glass of cranberry juice," Nick said to the bartender. Didn't think he'd met him before, but that was fine. Delicious meals and drinks first, socializing later. He waved at Creed, but right after the man entered, the cook's assistant came up with a still steaming hamburger.
The alchemist took a bite. Delicious.
Just as he was taking a second bite, Nick heard a clear chiming sound. They were going to hit the water soon. Oh no! This burger was so good. He could not leave it just to make sure the train got into the air safely. Besides, Creed knew what he was doing. Yes, yes. Everything would be fine.
Nick continued to to eat. He briefly thought about making a seat belt, but then he remembered they were already installed.
---
"We're going airborne? I thought that was just a marketing trick," a well dressed woman said.
Masquerade stood within conversation distance of her, mostly due to the fact that they had been conversing before the announcement. "I was just thinking the same thing."
"It's probably just some kind of stunt."
"We might as well sit, anyway. These chairs look comfortable enough. Also they might get a little enthusiastic about simulating turbulence."
The two were standing by the larger than normal windows in the first-class lounge car. They sat down in the large, leather seats, which were situated in angled pairs. The train made a slight turn, and the new view showed that everyone aboard the vehicle was indeed headed toward the sparkling ocean.
"Oh my. Maybe we're actually doing it," the woman said.
Masquerade merely smiled and nodded, reclining back in her first-class lazy boy.
---
Rie had no idea what the train was up to. She had her eyes on the prize. Nothing could stop her. She made a small leap to the next car.
Doola doo doo doola doo doo doola doo doo daaa.
The girl stopped and looked down. A young man with glasses had just shut his phone. He was looking right at her. "Why are you up there?"
Rie stared at him. Her eyes were cold; her expression was neutral.
So was his.
"I want to get to the open bar."
With that, she briskly turned around and continued her quest forward, noticing how close the train was getting to the ocean. Strange. Someone had mentioned before they left that the King Thomas had some gimmicks to it. Was flying over the water one of them? Rie mentally shrugged and took another step forward before almost losing her balance as the entire train began shaking.
Rie watched with slight amusement as the train engine began ascending. The cars behind it followed suit, and the girl calculated about 25 seconds before her car came off the tracks. She stepped out of her shoes and picked up the reinforced heels.
Ten more seconds. The girl began running, her bare feet making light thumping noises on the metal. The car in front of her angled upward, following its predecessors into the sky. Rie jumped.
On contact, she briefly phased her entire body, minimizing the sound of impact, and she slammed her stilettos into the roof. Their sharpened points and metal-reinforced, also aided by the quick phase, penetrated car top. Without the improvised hook, Rie might have slid back due to the train's acceleration and upward angle.
Only one more car to go. She reached up with her shoe and phased the heel into the roof a bit higher. She then removed the previous heel out of the roof and continued her crawl/climb. Had this been a cheaper train, the roof would have probably been made with a thin sheet of metal, leaving pinholes in the ceiling. It was not a cheap train, thankfully.
Just as Rie reached the end of her current car, the train stabilized and began gliding smoothly over the water. The girl stood up, putting her shoes back on. She dropped down between cars and opened the door. Inside, several people milled around. They gave her strange looks.
"Hello Death. Vodka and red bull."
SURE THING. BY THE WAY, YOUR HAIR IS ALL OVER THE PLACE.
"Oh."
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Post by Beelzebibble on May 8, 2010 12:18:35 GMT -5
OOC: Man, way to wuss out on Rie actually meeting one of the Giarrettieras.
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Post by ch00beh on May 8, 2010 12:24:05 GMT -5
OOC: My choices were stopping to chat with the creepiest G-bro or to scale a flying train using stilettos. What is wrong with you. Anyway, it's established that Rie was at least mildly intrigued by the man who could return her stare for when they inevitably meet later.
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Post by Lady Kara on May 12, 2010 22:09:07 GMT -5
For whatever odd reason, something about Massimo made her a little bit nervous. Bad enough that this trip was making her nervous, since she still had no idea how she was entered in the contest that earned her this experience. Nagisa did her best to grin at the man, and shook his hand.
"Yes, I am Nagisa Davarrin. And my middle name is Ethra'fel, which has a special meaning in the native language of my race. A pleasure indeed to meet you, Mr. Giarrettiera."
Wishing to be off and finally get in her room, she turned to Helen.
"Ms. Mercury, if we could be on our way again, I'd very much love to find out where the heck my room is on the train and get settled in it. I'm greatly hoping that my poor luggage hasn't been harmed at all, and it might be nice to have a bit of a nap."
OOC: Short post is short... but hey, I'm back in the RP. Rockin'. ^_^
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SV
Friendliest Member of ALL TIME
The Friendliest Member Of ALL TIME
Posts: 2,250
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Post by SV on May 15, 2010 16:36:47 GMT -5
"Oh, me? More of the same, just more of the same..." Sarosin replied, maintaining eye contact with his beverage. The look he gave it was a pensive one, and then he chugged about half it as though he expected it to jump out of his glass. Yoshimitsu regarded him bemusedly. "What brings you here?" he continued, ignoring the youth's expression. "Pretty swanky ride, no? And meeting you here, I mean, what a coinci--"
"...Ahh...this is your captain speaking. In approximately sixty seconds..." the train's intercom interjected. Smiling a faint, knowing smile, Sarosin took one more appreciable drink from his glass. "...As we may experience slight to moderate turbulence upon takeoff..."
The captain continued on for another moment. The announcement was followed several seconds later by a definite jostling of the car. Sarosin's drink sloshed around in protest, but he didn't spill a drop.
As the car leveled off, Sarosin turned back to Yoshi. "As I was saying, what. A. Coinciden--"
He was interrupted by an extremely windblown girl who dropped through the ceiling at the other end of the bar. Through the damn ceiling. Sarosin caught himself deciding that she was the girl whose room they'd walked into on accident earlier in the day, though he wasn't sure why. What a train, though! he marveled.
Leaning toward Yoshimitsu, he pointed discreetly at the young woman. "I believe I've seen her before," he confided.
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Shoni
Joyeuse Insurgency
Posts: 191
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Post by Shoni on Jun 27, 2010 20:51:16 GMT -5
OOC: Sorry it took me so long to post.
BIC: Flint sat down at a table in the dinning car and looked at the menu.
"Hmm, theres alot of options, but I guess I'll take the pasta dinner."
After eating his meal Flint headed back to his room, quickly changing into a dark blue t-shirt, a pair of baggy blue jeans and a necklace with a small blue gem on the end.
"That's much more comfortable. Now to go get something out of storage that might come in handy later. Something doesn't feel quite right around here."
In the luggage car Flint walked around looking for his suitcase. Finally finding it, he reached in and pulled out a pair of gloves. Each one having a large blue gem on the top of the hand. He put them on and started to walk back to the door, but something caught his eye all of the yellow suitcases had been opened.
"Well, I'm glad no one went through my suitcase." Flint said to himself, somewhat relieved "Maybe I should have left it in my room instead of dropping it off here before dinner."
Walking through the lounge car Flint walked by a mirror glancing at his reflection he saw his eyes had a slight tinge of gray in them.
"Dang."
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Post by Ninety on Jun 27, 2010 20:55:57 GMT -5
Kyle turned from the bar to slide the liquor cabinet's wooden shutter closed so the spirits wouldn't come crashing on his head while Creed did his magic. The glasses, stirring spoons, and all the other accoutrements that a bartender accumulates went into a similar compartment beneath the bar. He checked all of the refrigeration units to make sure everything within was secure before pulling a bottle of Heineken from the last one. "If any of you folks are planning on drinking something carbonated in the next twenty minutes," Kyle pried the cap off the bottle before continuing. "I'd suggest you order now and that you don't set it down until after the fireworks. You should all probably drink your glasses down a little more while you're at it." Seeing there were no takers and leading the patrons by example, Kyle promptly drank the neck of the Heineken before he took his seat in one of the booths and buckled up for the ride. I probably should have worked up more of a buzz for this.ohwtfshonifromouttanowhere
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