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Post by ch00beh on Jul 8, 2010 12:40:41 GMT -5
Rie was halfway through her second drink, a long island ice tea, once the train stopped shaking from whatever turbulence flying trains encountered on take off. If anyone asked, her drink was a normal ice tea. Couldn't admit to having a girly drink. Then again, pretty much everyone in the car probably had an idea The girl recalled the conversation.
"Hey. Uh," Rie whispered. "Long island ice tea."
LONG ISLAND ICE TEA COMING RIGHT UP
"Must you really speak in all caps? I will kill you if you say that again."
HAHAHAHA
Rie shook her head. Death was really an ass sometimes, and he had a creepy laugh, but then again, he was pretty much perfected bartending. Man this was a good drink.
"Death, make one of those 'Power Killers,' and get me a pale ale, then close my tax."
BUT YOU ALREADY HAVE A DRINK
Despite his protestations, Death was making the shot. The original maker of the "Power Killer" claimed that one of the Archipelago's Powers had a small heart attack after drinking it. Rie had yet to die from it.
"Now I don't." The long island was gone.
Death shrugged and put the drink on the table. He turned around to get the bottle of ale from the refrigerator, and as soon as he turned around, the Power Killer was gone. It was like her actual power was the ability to teleport things, as long as they were alcohol.
Rie reached for the bottle, but as soon as her shaking finger made contact, her eyes rolled up and her face slammed into the bar. Death's cold eyes stared at the back of her head from beneath his shadowed cowl.
A moment passed. Then the girl's hand shot up at the bottle of beer, snatched it out of Death's cold hands, and put the top through the back of her neck. She pulled out the bottle, now noticeably emptier but still just as closed, before popping up like nothing had happened.
"Alright I'm good," Rie said as she fished some bills out of her pocket. She placed the money on the table then got up, wobbling slightly before steadily making her way to the buffet cart.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Jul 8, 2010 23:48:28 GMT -5
Massimo passed through the recreation room, an area around the middle of the train furnished with a billiards table, a ping pong table, a dartboard mounted upon one wall, a large-screen battery-operated television with an attendant shelf stocked with DVDs, and numerous puzzles and board games, all of which activities were rendered possible by the fact that the train had levelled out in the air. This would later prove to be a fantastic gathering spot for other characters in the story but since the Don had accepted the thankless task of paying for his brother's drink, and was therefore headed like everyone else toward one of the two bars aboard the King Thomas, we will not be able to explore the rec room in any further detail just now. The mere fact of its existence will hopefully be an adequate narrative element to add at the moment. * * * Nico sat up. He had been saved from being thrown off the train at liftoff by the fortuitously timed automatic extension of an accordion-like canvas over the connector between the two train cars. Now, in this tiny flourescently lit tunnel of plastic, he was hurtling over the earth at an altitude to rival that of an airplane. His head was spinning somewhat. He drew himself very slowly onto his feet and slid open the door ahead. The buffet car. No one had vomited yet as far as Nico could smell. Actually the lids were just now being pulled away and already queues had formed. Excitement, Nico supposed, stimulated the appetite. He sat down firmly at the nearest unoccupied table, removed his glasses, produced his handkerchief, and set to wiping them clean. The floor kept re-angling itself but eventually it managed to hold its stillness. His thoughts swerved sickeningly back to the woman with short blond hair who had been crossing the roof of the train. Of course Nico would have had more time to wonder whether she had been hurled off the traintop at liftoff if a fuzzy figure with the same basic shape and coloration as the woman had not come into his field of view from the door on the opposite end of the room. He replaced his glasses. Yes, it was her. Her gait was distinctly unsteady. However she had gotten back inside the train, she didn't seem to have weathered the liftoff any better than Nico had. When she approached the buffet, he caught her eye. He pointed back toward the door where she had come in. "But the bar's that way." * * * Nico would have been surprised to learn that, at the very front end of the train, sitting astride the locomotive with his back against the smokestack, laughing in exhilaration as the train belched its way through the clouds, was someone else for whom gravity was not such a pressing issue. "I maaaaaked this train!" he shouted down at his shadow. "Excuse me," the shadow asked. "You did no such thing." "What I totally do'd! Remember?" said Rhometer. "We was'd in some other girl's house and I wanted a flyinging train be there so I haved it make this train be there then and then! I this is the samest train! I ream ember Higgledy Piggledy." There was a brief pause as Higgledy Piggledy took this in. "I am ashamed of myself I did not recall that this was or rather will have been that train." "It's gonna be have will was been awesome" The shadow flickered. "But Rhometer you must be prepared to concede that transporting this train backward through time has nothing to do with physically constructing it. You did not make this train." "Sure I do'd!" Rho beamed. Then he sighed heavily. "Lemme extrain this for you. I would explain it, but I can't cause we are not on a plane." He waited for Hig to acknowledge this ironclad leap of logic, but the shadow remained silent. "Yeah obviably I don'ted maked the flying train in the first place. But when I taked the flyinginging train then, I maked it have be exhausted before it stort exhausting. So it's like here is the first place but then here the place when I putted the train and that is now like the whatever is before first place. The noneth place, Higgledy Piggledy." "So what you are saying is that merely by causing the King Thomas to exist on the timeline prior to its invention you somehow 'created' the train on a philosophical level to which the engineers and mechanics devising this marvel of technology could not have possibly hoped to aspire." The boy grinned. "Nope," he said. "What I am sayinging is, when I do cause that stuff to blah blah blah, I will 'cremate' bluh bluh bluh. And it's gonna be have was will been awesome. All fill of sophical and everythin'." "And is there any possibility I can dissuade you from pursuing this course of action given both the unimaginable destruction it will cause on the ground and the disorder and possible disaster it will cause on board." "I 'unno," said Rhometer. He pulled his hat off to scratch his head and the spiralling hair unfurled and billowed out in the wind. "You'll have to will have was ask past me when he comeses gets the train. And I don't had be known what he'll say. Past me is scary."
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Post by ch00beh on Jul 9, 2010 0:41:20 GMT -5
Rie almost misplaced her foot when the bespectacled guy accosted her again. Ok ok. Her foot was right there. Nice. The girl quickly regained her composure before lifting her now open bottle of Bell's to the man's eye level. Despite the sarcastic gesture, her face was as blank as usual. Her eyes, on the other hand, were slightly dilated. Before the man could respond, Rie abruptly turned left, overturning slightly before realigning herself with another person. As random happenstance would have it, the bespectacled guy stopped her right behind a rather large, garishly dressed woman. This woman was not too pleased. Maybe she was very hungry and didn't like lines, or maybe her theoretical husband had just given her Bad News. Or maybe she was very surprised by a train taking off into the air so that it could hover above the ocean. Rie didn't particularly care. Hypermetabolism coupled with now-apparent drunk munchies meant that she just wanted this woman to stop fidgeting and get on with the line. There were lobsters to be had. Tunnel vision wouldn't be the best way to describe it. It was probably the training; even with things uncomfortably, though not debilitatingly, out of focus, Rie couldn't fixate on an object. She was still completely aware of everything in her peripheral vision. A couple of excited children running around and looking out the windows as the ocean sped bye; some yuppy gent texting madly on his iPhone; the unbearably long line of people at the other buffet table. Oh, and the bespectacled guy was still standing next to her. OOC: loooooooool it's like i don't know how to write OOC: lololol especially how you keep using "bespeckled" as if it means "bespectacled" OOC: I have no idea what you're talking about dumb dumb.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Jul 11, 2010 4:23:52 GMT -5
Prime weathered the turbulence of the train lifting off silently. His legs tensed slightly against each rocking, seemingly accustomed despite never having been in a similar predicament before. A woman nearby teetered on her high heels, and then fell sideways a shriek. “Mind yourself,” Prime had interposed between the dilettante and the plush carpeting, sparing her an undignified plunge, “It's going to be bumpy for a bit.” He raised her back to her feet, and stepped away. “Thank you!” “No need to thank me...” Prime put a hand on the hilt of one of his blades reflexively and glanced around the car. Nobody wearing a white cloak, though a few white dress shirts tweaked his attention for the slightest of instants. “But if you've seen a man with dark hair and wearing a white cloak... I've been missing his company,” Prime's lip twitched slightly. “A cloak? Oh, of course I'd remember something like that! Even around the Archipelago, most people don't wear stuff like that,” The woman smiled genially, “There was one two cars towards the back.” “Okay, that's good then. I suppose that I should be thanking you, Miss,” Prime nodded slightly, and then walked past her. I already went through the three cars at the very end of the train. There's no way that I missed him.Prime glanced out the window, at the coastal terrain they were smoothly gliding past. The sun was shimmering on the ocean below, dancing and sparkling with perfect clarity. The swordsman closed his eyes for a moment, and exhaled. The beauty of the day, the luxury of the ride... It was superfluous. He'd promised Giguere that he'd be catching Nopcsa. That's what he'd do. Alive, or in pieces. It was all the same, considering the kind of person that was his quarry. With perfectly measured strides, noiseless upon the masterfully woven carpet, he neared the back of the car. The door opened at his touch, and he stepped into the area betwixt the two enclosures. A pressurized seal had slid over the juncture, leaving it feeling the same as being inside one. That disappointed him, really. He'd have liked to feel the ocean wind whipping through his hair. Maybe he'd sneak up topside after this was done. With his elbow, he gingerly swung the next door open. It glided like a dream, perfectly oiled and calibrated. There was a fairly large crowd of people in the middle, seemingly gathered in a spirited discussion of international politics. Lovely. He'd expected the people towards the caboose to be more laid back, but then again, this was the party for rich boys and girls to flaunt exactly how undeservedly wealthy they were. “Hey, sexy,” A tenor voice piped up as a hand lightly fell upon Prime's shoulder from behind, taking hold of the fabric of the suit. He didn't need to turn. His body responded for him, throwing an elbow back with enough force to shatter concrete. It brushed against cloth, missing the retreating body by a hair's breadth. No matter. Prime's arm unfolded at the elbow, snapping into a vicious backhand as he turned to face the man. It clipped the figure's chin, leaving a bloody scuff. “Gee, just because you can't accept complements is no reason to respond with physical violence,” The man grinned widely, and wiped the crimson from his face with napkin he already had at hand. Though there was a trio of large scars stretching down from his left cheekbone, it was otherwise the same man that had been there in Hawaii. “Nopcsa,” Prime growled, and lunged forwards. He grabbed for the collar of the mindreader's shirt, only to have it tugged out of his reach. “Mr. Elder. Or is it Magnus? I really didn't get that straight-” Nopcsa ducked a left hook, cocking his head just enough to let it blow past him harmlessly, “Last time we met. Of course, I probably should have bothered to check when we were-” He jumped back, moving as one with the punch that Prime sank into his gut. With a grunt, he landed three paces back. “Taking everything I owned?” “Yeah,” Nopcsa's grin mutated into some sort of hybrid between a beaming smile and a smirk, “That one. The one where we left you totally screwed over and penniless.” His white cloak fluttered as he backstepped, letting Prime's blade whistle through the air between them. It clipped the embroidery of his dress shirt, flinging two sequins into the air. One split in half as it fell to the floor. “Oh, come on, REALLY?” Nopcsa's smirk receded almost instantly, “You weren't supposed to whip those out until about two minutes from, according to my boss.” He hopped briskly, as if skipping a rope, and avoided a swing that would have taken him off at the knee. “But then again, that's what she said,” He stepped closer to the swordsman, and spun aside as Prime attempted to strike him with the pommel of the blade. “How can you not take this seriously? You people ruin lives, desecrate sacred places! You treat other people like vermin, just to make a quick buck!” Prime's voice was a feral snarl, his eyes gleaming dangerously. “Yeah, that falls under that whole 'not taking this seriously' bit. I mean, really. Kinda like th-” Nopcsa stepped away from his hunter, and stumbled over the trash can behind him. The Fascere Operative landed hard on his back, halfway against the wall. He choked out a curse as Prime closed the distance, raising his weapon. “This was less trouble than I thought it would be, Nopcsa.” Prime said, meeting Nopcsa's gaze with his own void of emotion. This wasn't the time to be enjoying this. Justice was one thing, sadism another. “Oh, I know. But hey, Giguere's always talking out his ash,” With that, the mindreader kicked over the can, spilling its ash tray full of boiling coffee onto Prime's legs. The swordsman seemingly brushed aside the pain, and swung. CLANG! The blade slammed into the metal of the can, cleaving a good two thirds of the way into the receptacle. “Yeah, that didn't work so wonderful. Was hoping I'd break one of your precious swords, but-” Nopcsa tumbled aside as Prime's blade ripped the rest of the way through, and was on his feet in a moment. “Anyways, gotta be going. Other people to piss off, other valuables to pilfer. Y'know, life as usual,” Nopcsa threw the door to the car open, and dove through. Prime was after him in an instant, lunging into the aperture bladefirst. He was met with the heavy, well oiled door slamming on his arm. Eh, I think I favored Nopcsa a bit too heavily here. But whatevs.
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Post by Ninety on Jul 11, 2010 14:36:07 GMT -5
Gotdamn powers always jackin' around, tearing people's shit to shreds. Ain't got no regard for others. I bet Mr. Ninja over there ain't gonna help me clean this business. I hope that door broke his arm; serves him right."Nico! Grab a mop, a broom, and the conductor. Tell him we've got some rabble-rousers up here needs talkin' at. Hurry up, laposta!" Everett loved using the slurs the young Italian taught him, especially when they were directed at the kid himself. Getting to work, he began sopping up the spilt coffee with the towels he'd been carrying to the washrooms. OOC: If that was directed at me, I'm confused. Oh, I forgot you had a character named Nico. That was just me using the name of some Italian guy I played golf with once for a busboy/gopher/intern/lackey. I guess Nico Cavaretta is a little similar to your dude's name. ffffffffuuuuuuuuugarblegarble. I can change if necessary. Just gimme a minute to come up with a new name if that's what you want.
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Post by ch00beh on Jul 31, 2010 14:47:47 GMT -5
OOC: Kara/Lee, which train car are you guys in/around? Whatever car that Massimo and Helen are in. I literally have no idea what car that is... OOC: Man wow, we need another roll call. TOO MANY CHARACTERS AND SELECTIONS. Ok so This is all off the top of my head and very cursory glances back. I can't even keep track of who is on this train anymore. Masquerade is in one of the first class lounge cars. This is, I think, one car over from the first class amenities, which Massimo just passed through. I guess Helen and Nagissa are in the amenities car, then? Or were they at the bar, which Rie was at, but now she's at the buffet with Nico. In the second class bar is Nick, 90s char, and biscuit's char. Was Sarosin and ______ there? Caboose has Prime and Nopcsa? Zeb and Thyra are off galavanting somewhere. Rho is being Rhometer. Shoni's dude was in the second class restaurant, but now he's in his bathroom. Nat and Emily? are somewhere talking about cake somewhere. Ummmmmm someone else take over I'm bad at keeping track of things over long periods of time. My post says I'm in the lounge car, and I'll work on a post some time soon. OOC: Another quick RP tip wrap your "Out of Character" comments in [ spoiler ] [/ spoiler ] tags, or at the very least, prefix them with "OOC." It's not life or death, but it helps differentiate. Also my bad for getting the car wrong. I think Masquerade is there in the lounge, so yeah.
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Post by Yoshimitsu on Aug 3, 2010 9:54:35 GMT -5
OOC- Yoshimitsu is in the... first class buffet car, I believe, with Sarosin.
Also, I'm pretty positive that Rie and Yoshi have never met, so I guess I'll act on that
BIC - Yoshimitsu nodded. "Probably. I've seen a few people I know," he agreed, taking a sip of his beer. "It's like the biggest collection of Powers since Whelkshore." The teenager took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, offering one to Sarosin before taking one for himself. He produced a lighter from the same pocket and lit the cigarette, taking a deep drag. An ash tray was promptly placed next to him on the bar. "Zebedee, Thyra, Natalie, Prime, some guy," Yoshimitsu listed. "And that's just to name the ones I've seen. And let's not forget Death." The bartender heard his name and nodded in recognition. "I just hope there's no nasty surprises." ~*~*~*~ Felix stepped out of his first class cabin, eyes bloodshot and hair a mess. Before he did anything, his first necessity was coffee. And lots of it. He staggered his way to the buffet car, head pounding and vision slightly blurry due to his massive hangover. Why he had to do all of these early morning, dull as hell, sober-required missions was a mystery. Maybe someone was doing it to spite him. He poured himself a cup of coffee, black with no sugar, and cast a glance around the room. The job was to observe the powers who had boarded the train. Always the same, observe the powers. Why couldn't he get a nice, get very drunk and pass out naked on the table mission? Or go to a rave and just have some fun? "Bluhhh," he muttered. In the room right now, he could see two. Pictures had been printed off, depicting all of the powers that should be present. Right now, he could see Rie and Yoshimitsu. One was leaving the room, the other conversing at the bar. Nothing noteworthy. Good. It meant Felix didn't have to think too much right now. Without any consideration for any rules, he pulled a spliff from his pocket and lit it.
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Post by ch00beh on Aug 8, 2010 14:09:55 GMT -5
OOC: Ok! I think I found Helen and Nagisa just outside the bedrooms It didn't take long for Masquerade to find an unused first class room. Only one invitation was sent out per first class room, and it was inevitable that some people couldn't make the trip. The woman left her case next to the bed, testing the mattress briefly, before checking herself in the mirror. She adjusted her mask; it had become slightly askew. Her smile was still as lazy and unchanging as it was before she even got on the train. Masquerade was about to turn and leave before her gold pendant caught her eye. Julia... she could turn back. There was no reason to hide. The woman took her necklace off and felt the weight in her hands, letting it roll around as she pondered. This feeling was so relaxing. There was some unfinished business back at Saeptum that needed resolving, but just thinking about it was almost impossible. As Julia, she had a patient come in, still bandaged around his stub of an arm, telling her the story of how his entire team was killed by animated golems in a tomb search. The man had just proposed to one of the deceased, too, and according to the reports, pieces of her brain and skull had to get washed out of the man's hair. He was in bad shape. Julia would have felt terrible leaving him to take a week off... Masquerade knew that there were other qualified therapists at the organization. Besides, the woman saw some familiar faces. That Rie girl, for one, and when there was one Interesting Person, there were several. Like the Giarrettiera brothers. She probably didn't want to reveal her true identity to supposed Mafia. And then there was that one man from the festival a while back. She wasn't sure if she saw him in one of the windows, but she didn't want to take chances. Well really, she didn't care. But Julia would. Masquerade put the necklace back on then re-adjusted her skirt and corset before stepping out of the room. The rich woman from earlier mentioned there was a masseuse or the second floor of the amenities car, so that sounded like a good way to spend some time. The woman only made it one car before seeing a familiar face speaking to a magenta-haired woman with pointed ears. "Ah, Helen! How lovely that we meet again." Turning to the other woman and giving a small, yet elegant curtsy, "Masquerade, a pleasure to meet you miss...?"
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Post by Lady Kara on Aug 8, 2010 16:38:57 GMT -5
Nagisa was beginning to wonder how many people on this train that she'd have to introduce herself to and speak with before eventually finding her room. A tad bothersome, but she did enjoy the honor of stating her noble elven name. Momentarily caressing with one of her hands the blood-red heartlike jewel of her Phoenix Ruby pendant, which recently slipped down the front of her gown to rest over where her own heart was, she did her best to introduce herself to the mysterious masked woman..."My name is Nagisa Ethra'fel Davarrin... a proud member of the Drakyan tribe of the Elves, and fortunate to have had the luck to win a contest that earned me a trip aboard this grand train. It is quite a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Masquerade. Though the circumstances surrounding my chance to be on this train may be shrowded in odd mystery, I am truly loving this experience and look foward to what lies ahead on the journey. And pardon me if I should be incorrect, but I take it that you, like Miss Mercury, happen to be one of the entertainers on the train?" The Phoenix Ruby is sensing that maybe Nagisa's heart and her life could possibly be in danger on this trip, and is now resting over her heart in the hope to somehow protect it...
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Post by ch00beh on Aug 11, 2010 23:11:21 GMT -5
OOC: Sorry if this is assuming too much and putting too many actions in your mouth, Kara. But Masquerade's alter ego is a therapist, so she does this stuff. And these are all just assumptions she's making, not necessarily calling out the truth. "I've been getting that a lot." Masquerade chuckled, though through the laugh, she was analyzing this Nagisa woman. There was definite pride in the voice. When she said "proud member" she wasn't kidding. Besides the confident tone of voice, her body stood strongly with the phrase, and her head turned ever so slightly upward. There was also an undertone of wishing to make haste. Increase in cadence after speaking her tribe's name indicated that everything was less important. Interesting. Of course all this information was inferred and assumed during that brief chuckle. "As odd as it sounds, I just like dressing fabulously for the occasion. I'm not lined up for any performances on this train; I'm actually just here for vacation." Masquerade permanent lazy smile brightened somewhat. "So, you have a mystery ticket holder? Could be a secret admirer..." She winked.
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Post by Lady Kara on Aug 12, 2010 21:09:22 GMT -5
OOC: Nah, it's fine. Don't mind a bit. Though it is far from the creepy truth... Nagisa could feel her heart flutter inside of her like the wings of a butterfly as she heard that last comment, and her face was soon blushing a lovely rose hue. A secret admirer? Really? Though she is supposed to be waiting until the day that Avian Ryora returns to the world, to become his beloved immortal bride, the thought of someone taking a fancy to her was quite a lovely thing indeed. Perhaps this fellow contrived the whole contest as a means of meeting up with her aboard the train for a romantic adventure of sorts. She'd been without another's company for far too long... it might be fun to enjoy whatever surprise was in store for her. And it wouldn't be considered cheating if she didn't let go too far, right?"A... s-secret admirer? Oh my my. The thought has never crossed my mind. The only thing that I've been thinking about of recent is about finding where my room is and making sure all my luggage is safely in it. But seriously... if what you say could possibly be true... w-wow..." Nagisa's mighty dragonic heart was now pounding from her being rather excited, and she wondered if it was making the Phoenix Ruby pendant bounce noticeably on her chest from the force of its pumping... (which would certainly be quite an odd sight to see, being that it'd make the heartlike jewel seem as though it were beating itself).
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Post by ch00beh on Aug 23, 2010 17:34:54 GMT -5
OOC: Lee said I could auto Helen into walking along. other than that, I don't know her well enough to make conversation. Oh well. Masquerade's lips curled up ever so slightly at the sight of this woman blushing. The masked woman noticed movement at the bottom of her vision, and her eyes drifted to center on the bouncing pendant. How interesting. "My advice? I think you should go with it. Learn everything you can about this, of course, but enjoy it, too. Anyway, let's get you to your room. Miss Mercury, would you like to come with us?" The magician nodded, her purple curls bouncing in motion with her head and her hat tilting slightly off balance. "Shall we?"
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Post by Beelzebibble on Aug 24, 2010 22:22:36 GMT -5
OOC: This RP is incomprehensible. too many CHARACTERS and CARS. i dare even say........., too many SHARKS and JUMPING Nico scratched his jaw and waited for the woman to produce a more verbal response, but none arrived. This was unexpected. He gave her another beat. No, none. She was staring at the plate of lobsters. It fell upon Nico exceedingly uncharacteristically to bear the weight of conversation. No subject leaped to mind. How meltingly awkward. He remembered his cell phone. He frowned. "You've been moving round and about the train, then," he said, and if it had been that much of a question he would have framed it as such. "Have you seen a dickwad in a trenchcoat?" * * * The dickwad in the white cloak burst out of the caboose door and ran straight into Cesare. Amazing. Two for two. The fucker tried to skirt around him but Cesare grabbed his pencil-thick arm and steered him around. "Just plant your feet right there, buddy!" The guy wheezed pretty over-dramatically. He had three scars on his cheek for some reason. Probably picked Mittens up the wrong way. "Oh, thank God, are you with security?" he gasped. "There's a man back there who just pulled out a sword. He's tearing people apart! You have to protect m--" "Shut up," Cesare snarled. He patted his pockets. The cell phone and keys were still there. Okay good. Wasn't gettin' robbed twice in one day by these slick motherfuckers. "What?" he added. "A man with a sword," the slick motherfucker repeated. "Red hair. Dressed up sort of like you. Red shirt, though. Black tie. He is killing everyone. Please stop him!" And with that, he wrenched his arm neatly out of Cesare's grasp and shot off down the hall away from the caboose, howling with what was Cesare guessed raw terror. Through another door and he was gone. Right on cue, the dickwad with the sword pushed through the opposite door. The blade was lowered. He was rubbing his arm. Oh, Christ. Look at that bloodlust in his eyes. Here was a real psycho. Cesare grabbed not one but both arms, the sword arm down by the wrist so he couldn't do more than waggle it around like a balloon animal, and pushed the psycho motherfucker back against the wall. "Okay, pal, just plant your feet right there!" he roared. He didn't usually come up with good lines like that and he was not about to drop it after just one use, oh shit no. OOC: Sorry, I figured Lee wouldn't mind any autoing that let Nopcsa be a troll. Pictured: Nopcsa
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Post by ch00beh on Aug 26, 2010 4:50:22 GMT -5
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA KUUUUUUUUUN
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Post by ch00beh on Aug 29, 2010 12:46:21 GMT -5
Rie glanced sideways at the bespectacled guy then immediately looked back at the food. She was trying so hard to not have to talk to him again. Really, she was just trying hard not to have to talk to anyone at all. 'People are dumb, and they usually want to kill you or do something unpleasant.' That was probably the closest thing Rie had to a motto. It didn't provide a good baseline for socializing. Also, forcing a conversation (which fit under the 'unpleasant' part of her motto) would totally kill her buzz. The girl's mind was racing, trying make a plan to get away from this guy. There were too many people between her and the food, so she couldn't pretend she didn't hear him by banging on the chafing dishes with a lobster. There was the option of fleeing completely, but if she phased through the floor she would lose her spot in line. She could kill everyone... but they would probably stop serving her. Plus she would have to take off her shoes to wield as weapons and that would take time during which time anyone in the room could shoot a fireball and also some kid spilled soda on the floor and that would just be terrible to walk through barefoot. Sugar gets so sticky. No, combat was not an option. The girl took another glance at the guy. He was pretty keen on just awkwardly looking at her, apparently until she answered. There was no way out. Enemy engaged. "Some dickwad in a trenchcoat? What do you need a wad of dicks for?" Despite the seemingly antagonistic implications, her face was perfectly blank, as always. After all, she wasn't angry or annoyed. Frustration wasn't an emotion that just anyone could make her feel. To her, the bespectacled guy was a minor obstacle between her and her goal. He didn't seem to be taking the comment well, however. She couldn't tell if the silence was just awkwardness or anger or if he was about to cry. Killing a man in under 3 seconds: easy. Understanding human interaction: impossible. "Okay, fine, look, if I tell you that there was a guy in a trenchcoat over that way," she pointed, "will you let me get food?" I think Rie is actually acting a little nicer than in LAR. She hasn't tried to sterilize Nico yet.
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Post by Tout-Perd on Sept 10, 2010 0:15:32 GMT -5
“You can’t eat only pudding.”
“I can eat only pudding. It’s unhealthy and decidedly impractical, but I could suck down pudding for this whole trip,” Lacianus leaned back casually in her seat, resting against the red cushioning. She brought another spoonful to her lips, keeping it precisely level despite the shaking of the vehicle.
“That… That’s true, I guess. But you wouldn’t,” Berthold retorted. His hands were resting on the table. After a moment, he fidgeted, and put them in his lap. No, that looked improper… He hopelessly shoved his hands in the pockets of his shiny black suit jacket, and glanced over.
A blonde man, roughly the same size as him, was seated with a royal casualness to his pose. His hair was trimmed short, hinting at supposed discipline, an idea enhanced by the large, dour looking shades hiding his eyes. He was paying little attention to the gourmet pizza on the plate in front of him, simply tracing the contour of the islands in the distance. His fingertip’s heat fogged the glass, leaving a vague outline of the view from moments ago.
“I totally would. Heck, I totally would just to prove you wrong. All this pudding, made from scratch? That’s just gravy. Pudding. Not gravy pudding, but-“ Lacy decided the better of continuing this train of thought, and carefully bisected a clot of the desert on her plate. With a mechanical twist of her wrist, she turned it 90°. A moment later, the spoon was in her mouth again.
“And you’d miss out on all of the different things they’re offering? Bavarian pastry things, French cheeses, all sorts of Italian stuff, all the Chinese you can eat-“ Berthold smiled vaguely. Even though he’d had a gigantic cheesesteak with the freshest vegetables he’d tasted in weeks, all the food talk was getting him hungry again, “Boston cheesecake.”
“That- Okay, yeah, screw the pudding. At least, screw the pudding when I’m done with this plate. Switching to all range mode,” Lacianus dipped her spoon, and swept it around her plate in a perfectly circular motion. There was no noise of the silverware scraping the china. She raised the vanilla-chocolate mélange to her lips, and downed it. Berthold couldn’t help but envy her. Despite his much more ergonomic choice in food, he’d experienced the unique sense of dread that came from sauce dripping onto expensive clothing.
Lacianus, and for that matter, the fairly conservative black dress she wore, were immaculate. Even her plate was sparklingly clean now.
Without saying a word, George pulled his hand away from the window, and clenched it into a fist. -------- “Hey, Thyra, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Zebedee was seated on the roof of the train, scratching absentmindedly at some holes punched in the metal while looking dead ahead. Rays of golden light danced around him, moving like seaweed in the ocean currents below.
“Yes. Yes and no,” Thyra Russell was still standing, her hair pushed straight back by the wind resistance. Her dress remained mostly in order, the weights sewn into it and a few concealed straps doing their jobs well. She’d planned for flying at some point, albeit not quite this early in the voyage.
“So, you see a little ragamuffin type hanging halfway down the smokestack, and shouting happily?” Zebedee glanced back for just a moment, attempting to meet her gaze, only for his bangs to blow into his eyes, “Is he like delirious with asphyxiation, or are we talking something much more fortunate, and much more weird?”
“It’s… More fortunate than that, I’d say. He’s a friend of mine. One of-“ Thyra paused significantly, “Us.”
“Yeah, kinda figgered he was a Power. What’s his deal?” Zebedee pushed off of the roof, rising to his feet. His tie flapped up, slapping him in the face.
“He’s… Not exactly the easiest person to explain. If you could explain him in the first place, and if he is what you could call a ‘person’. I think that the best way to elucidate would be a demonstration,” Thyra found herself smiling at her friend’s uncertain glance. This would be an experience, no matter how it turned out.
“Those are exactly the kind of words I don’t like to hear. It usually involves me needing to get my racquet right afterwards.”
“You should! He’d like that a lot, I’d wager.”
Zebedee bit his lip slightly, and then raised one hand (using the other to restrain his tie, naturally). Green sparks flew back in the wind, vanishing before the weapon had even appeared. When it did, it caught the sunlight, throwing a suncat halfway up the back of the next car. It was slightly shorter than Zebedee’s arm, with a sleek, kiteshaped frame. Along the edges, triangular diamond blades were stationed like thorns on a rose. The center was a singular mirrored surface, standing out against the painted blue titanium.
He twirled it with his fingertips, turning it so that the wind didn’t catch it.
“Let’s go see your friend, then,” He brought the weapon up, resting it lightly against his shoulder. He made sure his grasp was just right, keeping the bladeless handle from slipping and bringing the diamond shards to bear on himself.
“Let’s,” Thyra raised one hand in greating, and then shouted (or rather, spoke loudly. But for Thyra, this was most certainly the equivalent of yelling), “Hey, Rhometer!” ------ Helen nodded slightly when addressed, but she had been quite lost in thought for a while now. Masquerade seemed to be bringing much more focus to the conversation than she had earlier, and every word had underlying notes to it. This woman wasn’t talking on the normal level… It seemed everything was subtextual with her.
Would she pick up on some underlying guilt of Helen’s? Maybe she’d analyze the way she said “Summoners”, and dissect that into a known association with a terrorist group? It was certainly a dangerous possibility.
It’d be best to get away from her, at least while she was like this. Maybe when the woman was preoccupied or had a few drinks, but when she was a hawk watching the mice, it was stupid to stick around.
She couldn’t just bail, though. No, that’d give Masquerade far too much of a reason to be suspicious. That might actually warrant an in depth investigation from the harlequin. That wouldn’t do.
She was stuck here, writhing uncomfortably under the eye of Sherlock Holmes. At least until another ten minutes had passed, and left her with the valid excuse of her performance for the day.
Helen needed something to keep Masquerade preoccupied until then.
“Ever have any such flings yourself?” Helen smiled knowingly, looking towards the masked woman, “I mean, it sounds like you’re speaking from personal experience.”
“So, how was it?” She hoped she could buy herself a few more minutes. That'd be enough to regroup and gather her senses. Maybe she'd be able to pick the next battle better.
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Prime
Saeptum Agent
1%
Agent of Truth
Posts: 399
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Post by Prime on Sept 10, 2010 19:32:36 GMT -5
"Aarrrgh!" Prime grunted, berating himself for his foolishness. He was being over eager, he needed to keep his cool. He snapped the door open anyways, and was immidiately slammed into a wall. His reflexes snapped in quickly, and before the aggressor has even finished his sentence, Prime had his katana lightly pressed against one of his kidneys. His other hand had half drawn a katana that was lightly pressing against the mans stomach. "I believe the idea was to restrain me." Prime said calmly, "If that is so, you have to weigh significantly more than me to lock my arms down merely by grabbing them. You do not have that advantage." Prime calmly looked into the mans eye's at point blank range. The coldness was piercing. "You have delayed me, I suggest you back down, and get the hell out of my way." Prime said, the muscled in his arms bulging and straining every so slightly, but none of his effort cross his face. "Or I will kill you." OOC: I know you guys hate me for my realistic perspective and take on martial arts, but just because you say he can't wiggle his arm in that position...Well, just no. Swordsmen's note. If I personally was grabbed by the wrist with a sword in my hand, I could break it by making a circle either to the inside or the outside. In both instances the end of the position would allow for a swift cut through the tricep, which would practically disable his arm. Next time, if you think you have surprise, kick him in the balls.
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Post by Beelzebibble on Sept 10, 2010 19:46:32 GMT -5
OOC: Snap snap, Prime. You got to keep up with things. Read my last post a little further up this page.
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Post by ch00beh on Sept 14, 2010 14:19:56 GMT -5
OOC: snap snap Prime, you can't get your panties in a bunch over a waggling arm. Posts are told from a character's point of view, and I'm about 95% sure that Cesare doesn't know what a sword looks like and since he's such a big guy, basically everyone else he's grabbed at the wrist was instantly crippledMasquerade smiled lazily back at the magician, who had, up until recently, looked somewhat uncomfortable. Was it their slight dispute earlier? Possibly. "No, nothing ever really lasted, and the few dates were never this extravagant." Ah. Maybe just a loss for words at the introduction of a third party. The performer had regained her composure rather splendidly and now had a confident smile on her face... hm. That might be her performance smile. Was she hiding something? Oh well. No need to pry. If Masquerade could wear a mask, so could everyone else. "What about you, Miss Mercury? Does performance leave time for boys?" OOC: I got a couple sentences into Rie's eating adventures, but then realized POTATO HASN'T POSTED NICO'S AWKWARD RESPONSE.
If you had, you would have seen the best freudian slip all train ride.
(that's probably a lie)
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Post by Ninety on Sept 15, 2010 17:00:33 GMT -5
Kyle got up and tossed the empty bottle of beer in the bin under the bar then set to getting the bar ready for war. Evening was approaching quickly and sundown led to a lot of glasses going bottoms-up. The pretentious loners and the vapid women, the lechers and the haughty, the amiable and the despicable; whoever should sit at the bar is a customer to be served without judgment. Everyone is equal in a bar. As such, Kyle had to be prepared for whatever desires his patrons harbored. It was this attentiveness and sensitivity to a customer's desires that landed Kyle his position aboard the King Thomas while other, more experienced bartenders were passed over.
Kyle paused for a moment as he remembered the other bartender that had been hired.
I think I would've given him whatever job he asked for.
As he gave the bar a final wipe-down, Kyle looked over at the man who had been his first legitimate customer of the day and realized he'd seen the man's face somewhere else in the bar when he first came in.
"Hey dude, uh…Nick? You're the cat that built this train, right? Yeah, you're him. I peeped you in that picture over there when I first came in today." On the wall by the staircase was a portrait taken at the christening of the Thomas. Standing with one of Creed's perpetually sooty hands planted on his shoulder was the unkempt man that was just now pushing his plate away and emptying his glass. "I guess I should thank you for giving me a place to work. Hey you want something besides a cranberry juice? How about a cocktail on me?"
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Post by {WW}BetaBloodWolf7 on Sept 19, 2010 0:39:42 GMT -5
Arnold woke up with a sharp pain in his back. He stood up and pressed his hands firmly against his lower back and pushed, causing whatever part of him that had been knocked out of place to be pushed sharply back into place with an even sharper, though momentary, pain.
It didn't take long for him to notice that the rest of his team was gone, meaning that he was late to his duties. Again. With a sigh he reached for the radio that rested on the luggage rack above his seat, pulled it down and flicked it on.
"Berthold, Lacianus, can you hear me? Where are you guys?"
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Post by Beelzebibble on Sept 22, 2010 1:16:38 GMT -5
Cesare returned the dickwad with the sword's calm gaze with an equally cold and steady glare. Oh wait, no, he was fucking fuming. "Fuck you, killer," he snarled. Then he headbutted the guy straight on in the face. The killer's head whipped back against the wall and a satisfying crunch told Cesare he'd broken the killer's nose. The bleeding dickwad right off started waving around his faggy swords but Cesare grabbed his neck with his free hand and slammed him down against the sliding door. "You fucking would kill me, wouldn't you, you fucking fanook?" Cesare shouted as he kicked a low-sweeping sword out of the way. "That a fucking confession? Huh?" Cesare slid open the door and looked into the caboose. He was expecting a pile of carved-up bodies, this fucking killer's handiwork. He was expecting blood all the way up to the goddamn ceiling. Actually though all he saw was some upset furniture and a bunch of totally intact people flipping their shit. Come to think of it, there hadn't even been any blood on the killer's faggy swords. Either of them. Cesare loomed in the doorway and seriously said "Oh" like a fucking idiot. * * * Massimo reached the top of the iron staircase. The gentleman behind the bar was talking to another apparent staff member, a fellow dressed in a mechanic's outfit. Massimo wasn't in a rush. He hoisted himself up onto a stool and spun around gently to look out the giant window opposite the counter. There was nothing beneath them but water. He smiled. And why not. Any moment spent not making amends for his younger brother's transgressions was a moment spent fantastically. Let the bartender and the mechanic talk as long as they needed to. Massimo would enjoy the view. How extraordinarily like Cesare to misplace his wallet and leap to the conclusion that someone else on board was responsible. Massimo wondered idly whether the middle Giarrettiera might in fact have flushed the wallet down the toilet. He couldn't call it unlikely. Depending on the train's method and schedule of sewage evacuation, this might mean the wallet had already ended up in the gullet of a Pacific shark. And who was to shoulder the loss for this occurrence. Apparently it was Massimo. So it was ever with Ces. Step one. Commit a blunder. Step two. Pin the blame elsewhere. Step three. General breakage and bedlam. Unfortunately since this was one of the less extreme examples, there were no grounds for Massimo to seriously entertain the idea of taking him out on the river and shooting him. A shame. It was always good fun to seriously entertain that idea. Don Massimo leaned back and rested an easy elbow behind him on the bar. He had seriously entertained that idea at least once a year since the death of their father. Possibly beforehand as well. * * * Nico nodded. "Thank you," he said. "That's all." Immediately that did not seem like all and he came close to saying something else, but he thought better of it and, after lifting a hand from his hip in a low half-wave, he departed the buffet car. He glared at the floor as he walked. He had an idea that this entire conversation had come off the wrong way. But there was nothing in it now. He moved on into the bar. One of two on the train. Of course they wouldn't have been satisfied with a single facility. Immediately his nostrils were met with the reek of liquor. He winced. Strange how anyone could choke down such bitter swill. For Nico it was wine or water: anything stronger was the resource of vulgar animals with deadened taste buds and not a brain cell to kill off. Even his oldest brother consumed hard liquor (to say nothing of Cesare). This puzzled Nico. He generally took Massimo to have more bearing. There was a man in a trenchcoat sitting at a table with a young man of a hair color too garish and obscene to recount here. Nico drew in his breath. Nothing to do but put a brave face on. He stepped forward as the boy was saying something about nasty surprises and pulled up a chair. "Excuse me. Do you know how many more hours until we touch down in Hawaii?" OOC: I'm going to see how many times I can get one of my characters to tell one of Prime's characters those three words.
I'm assuming a shitload of times.
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Prime
Saeptum Agent
1%
Agent of Truth
Posts: 399
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Post by Prime on Sept 22, 2010 9:34:09 GMT -5
"Don't really want to kill you asshole," Prime growled through a bloody nose, "So stop fucking tempting me!" He yelled, the hilt of his sword smashed into his face. Followed by his fist. Prime delivered a sharp knee to the groin, and followed up with a second knee to his kidney. He silently barated himself for expecting the dull thug to back down, some people really were just that stupid. He followed with a sharp downward stab, going through his assailants foot all the way to the floor, the hilt following like the head of a nail. Prime shouldered him sharply, knocking the asshole onto his back, and stepping viciously on his face. "There, now you have a broken nose to." Prime said viciously, spitting on the floor beside the brute. OOC: There, we're even plus 1. Though I'd have preferred he hesitated or, you know, asked a question. Or, you know, you didn't auto my character being injured.
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Post by ch00beh on Sept 22, 2010 11:15:09 GMT -5
Rie stared unblinkingly at the likewise-staring, bespectacled guy as he half-waved away. Relieved to be rid of him, she turned back to see that the line had moved just enough for her to reach the first chafing dish. For a moment, the shapeshifter considered morphing a couple more limbs to hold more plates, but decided against it. It was one of those "social convention" things that could get everyone to freak out and not give her free food anymore. Phasing might have been one of those violations, too, but she wasn't really sure. No one had really stared at her too long when she came through the ceiling, but maybe that was because she did it discreetly. She was pretty hungry, though. If only Ender were around. He always had multiple plates floating around, and then when he was done, he would memory wipe anyone who saw. Not for the first time that day, Rie wished things were that simple again. The girl snapped out of her reverie when she noticed that her plate was getting heavy with lobsters. Apparently her hand knew exactly what it was doing and didn't need any help from her brain. Convenient. Rie exited the line and made her way to an empty table when she noticed a little girl eating copious amounts of pudding. The way the girl ate was almost mechanical in her precision. No wasted movements, perfection in cleaning the plate. The ghost was reminded of something or someone familiar... Pudding. Yes. That was it. Hypermetabolism loved pudding. Lots of calories in the form of carbohydrates that could be burned quickly and efficiently. Rie turned around mid-step to look at the dessert table, almost losing her balance again. Oh. That power killer was pretty great. When she regained her composure (it was pretty quick), she noticed that the dessert table was empty. Sober, she probably wouldn't have looked at it in the first place and would have just started on her lobsters. In her current state, it was only logical to get some dessert before everyone else made a stupid line. Rie went for the table, picking up a second plate and started piling the deliciously sweet, calorie-packed cakes and puddings on it without having to wait for a slow elderly couple or a uncoordinated child. She was in and out within thirty seconds, now armed with a plate in each hand. Upon turning around, she stopped. The table she was going to sit at was taken. The place was fairly packed as it was. There didn't look like there was any more open seating... wait, there. No. Someone took it. Dammit. That bespectacled guy was standing right next to it. Rie looked down at her food, then back up at the table. She almost sighed before weaving her way in that direction.
The guy turned to look at what was approaching from his periphery, only to find Rie's stare once again. The girl didn't say a word. She just put her food on the empty table and sat down.
"The other tables were taken."OOC: WOOPS CONTINUATION FOLLOWING
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Post by Beelzebibble on Sept 22, 2010 11:23:02 GMT -5
OOC: Snap snap, Choobs. Nico left the buffet car. He's in the bar now with Sarosin and Yoshi.
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Post by ch00beh on Sept 22, 2010 11:31:28 GMT -5
OOC: Here we gooooooooooo Rie stared. Maybe there were some seats in the bar? She weaved her way through the tables and crowds, occasionally phasing here and there so as not to upset her plates with a sudden jolt of impact. With both hands full, the closed train door was almost a hassle. No big deal, though. She simply walked through it without bothering to open it. The same went for the bar door. Once her eyes pushed past the wooden frame, they were greeted with the pleasant sight of a single open table with no one trying to get to it. She nodded to Death then started a not-quite-but-close-to triumphant walk to the table before stopping in her tracks. It was that bespectacled guy again. He was standing right next to the table. Rie looked down at her food, then at the table, glanced at the guy, then looked back at the table. She almost sighed then walked straight there anyway. The guy turned to look at what was approaching from his periphery, only to find Rie's stare once again. The girl didn't say a word. She just put her food on the empty table and sat down. "The other tables were taken."
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