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 Scene 1 Ah Paris, the city of lights, the city of revolution, the city of culture. I hope you’ve taken the time to see the sights because there might not be long to go before it’s time to depart. Still one thing you were surprised to learn when an invitation was handed to you this morning is that you’ve been invited to a party. It seems there is German royalty amongst you and she’s throwing quite the shindig. Of course Princess Kralta is known to be fairly eccentric in her tastes which the party invites seem to bear fruit. Still the Hotel ballroom appears to liberally festooned with tables bearing hors d'oeuvres and waiters bearing bottles of champagne and other alcoholic concoctions to suit anyone’s taste. In the corner a small string quartet plays quietly as the guests circulate and make small talk. Helena: Quite the party right? And for once you’re not the poor cousin looked down on pitied and laughed at by the other girls for your threadbare and dowdy clothes. No instead you’re almost mobbed by a throng of attendees asking for you to work your occult magic for them. Who amongst them has caught your eye? Has Madam Zenia ever indicated any preference in the type of emotions she likes to consume? Siobhan: God these parties are dull aren’t they? All boring rich people dancing to stately waltzes. Do you have anything planned to liven things up? Also just as a warning it’s getting pretty close to the full moon is that going to be a problem for you? Have you thought about how you’ll manage on the train? Iuliana : How the other half live huh? Usually at a party like this you’d be the one serving the drinks. Today you’re part of the nobility drinking the fancy champagne and eating the best caviar. Do you think you’ll ever get used to this? And speaking of drinks when was the last time you had a drink of well you know. Is there anyone you’ve got your eye on to take advantage of for that? David: This is quite a bash isn’t it? Not the kind of place a lowly Tommy like you tends to find himself in. When your Colonel handed you your invitation did he tell you what it was a reward for? Better yet that cute Irish girl you saw before is here. Are you going to make your move now or are you going to wait till later on? Bethany: Ah you’re finally here. What did you end up choosing to wear from your collection of jewellery? Where do you even get something like that? Although I’m sure whatever it is it will look stunning on you. Speaking of collections what a stroke of luck all of your special people seem to be at the party. Who do you plan to approach first to bring them under your wing? Ophelia: Bah look at the way they’re swarming that obvious hack Vandervelit. Still you’re not jealous are you? It’s only a matter of time till you get the wealth you and your family deserve. Speaking of which whose the latest mark you're thinking of taking for a ride? Wallace: Man that looks like a pretty heavy headache. The threads are pretty tangled today. This party is obviously important but it’s tying people up in new knots. Which of the new connections that are being created most concerns you? Who seems most interested in forming a connection with you? Cloyd: Well everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves don’t they? What’s been so frustrating you regarding your investigation at the moment? Have you ever thought about asking someone to help with your enquiries or are you afraid they wouldn’t believe you? Who do you think can give you a lead at the party?
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Feb 3, 2016 19:29
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The Players Cloyd Herman Shapter the Ghost Played by Purple Nurplie David Huxley the Mortal Played by mcclay Wallace Buccmaster Oisin Gage the Fates Played by Toph Bei Fong Helena Vandervliet, the Infernal Played by Antivehicular Ophelia Antoinette Grenville the Witch Played by Godfish Iuliana Cojocaru the Vampire Played by nil. Siobhan O'Flanagan, the Werewolf Played by Rauri The Strings String sheet The OOC Thread OOC Thread Ferrosol fucked around with this message at 18:35 on Feb 18, 2016 |
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Feb 3, 2016 19:29
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 Hot:2 Cold: -1 Volatile: -1 Dark: 1 XP: 0/5 Harm: 0/4 Conditions: Location: Hotel Ballroom I honestly don't know why the Colonel gave me the invitation. This kind of event is far too posh for someone like me. Most of the gents here have blood that goes back to kings and queens! I'm lucky if my ancestors had a Earl squirreled away somewhere. Must have had something to do with watching that American last night. Nothing too hard, just sitting in the same dining car as him, making sure he doesn't bomb the train, normal things. All for naught though, the man did nothing but drink cheap wine and read from his Bible. Time and place for the Good Book, but he does seem to carry it with him far too much. Anyways, I guess that the Colonel gave me and the other Private watching him a pass to the party in exchange for watching the American. Enough about that though, there's a bloody party going on! Full dress uniform, of course. Its noble, snappy, makes the ladies go crazy and, to speak frankly, is the only pair of nice clothing I own. I made sure to make up for that though! All the buttons and other bits of metal are shined to a sheen, ribbons properly arrayed and everything is tight and crisp. Cut a dashing figure as I made my way through the crowds, if I do say so myself. Nothing on the noble chaps, of course, but I think I stand out. Speaking of standing out, for a second the crowd parted and she was there. Perfectly framed by the party-goers, a bastion of uncut beauty in a sea of superficiality. Sibohan, with her wild eyes and unruly demeanor. She slays me every time I gaze upon her, making my own wants and needs pale in comparison. I gathered myself up and walked stiffly over to her. Full of purpose, ready to strike while the iron is hot I took a step forwards and proudly, boldly even, tripped over my own feet and lurched forwards, hitting the wall with a thud. "Oh bollocks." Turning Siobhan On: 2d6+2 5 ((Rip in rip, at least I got an xp.))
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Feb 4, 2016 06:34
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 Hot +2 | Cold +1 | Volatile -1 | Dark -1 XP: 1/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Location: Hotel Ballroom It is funny in a way that this party should serve as both an affirmation of my transformation - one of the transformations, in any case - as well as a reminder of the life I have left behind. On the one hand, here I am at a ball filled with an excess that was beyond my previous masters in England but that should hold no fascination for a countess such as I have assumed the role of - and the mere fact that I am here and that no suspicious eye falls upon me, thinks me out of place proves that I have successfully assumed my role or perhaps it merely tells us something about the power of illusion and assumption. On the other hand, I cannot help but realize that I see something here that I suspect few others do - I see the servants, invisible, and I am not certain whether I should pity them, feel solidarity for them or be glad that I am rid of their lot. I sip on my champagne, laugh at some remark of my current conversational partner - and it is the taste of the champagne that reminds me that there is still a difference between me and all of the men and women of privilege here. It would be there no matter how good me impersonation, the difference being, of course, that I still have to work myself to satiate my hungers, or rather, my thirst. Champagne at least, does nothing to quench that thirst and, to be quite frank, pales in comparison to that delight's flavor. Which only goes to remind me that it has been to long since I drank my fill of the nectar that I now require to live - questions about whether it is a curse or a blessing unanswered for now, the only conclusion I could reach is that I am what I am now. I would wager that many in this ballroom may even pride themselves in sucking the life out of others and call it virtue - and I would suspect their reasons may not be as elemental as needing to do as such to live. Which brings me to who I shall focus my attentions on to take advantage of this gathering of all sorts of people - one of my 'peers' or one of the servants? The former, inebriated or perhaps interested in some new exotic medical procedure to restore one's vigor, the latter, eager to follow commands and unlikely to both report on the oddities of the 'higher' classes and be believed. Of both groups I have found a promising example - a 'peer' in his thirties apparently eager to be pay as much attention to others as he is to the bottle of champagne he is holding and a young maid that has brought me and took away my glasses that seems to have been astonished that I acknowledged her. An idea comes to me - I seek out Wallace in the crowd, make my excuses to my current companions and gracefully make my way over to my supposed expert in matters of advice for the future. It is time to put his abilities to a more significant test. I acknowledge him with a nod and a smile - him, always seeming so serious - and incline my glass towards him. "Wallace, quite the gathering, no? How has the evening been treating you so far?" As always since assuming my new role, I exaggerate the accent I inherited from my mother which I aimed to suppress when it was still me serving the champagne, to please my employers. No more. "It is no doubt the last opportunity to socialize with such an amount of people before we embark on the Orient Express, a far more confined place." I step next to him and scan the crowd. "Do you have any insight into who I should engage with while I still can, that is to say, who would lead to a... delightful evening that perhaps shall even be to some benefit?" I turn my head to face him and give him an easy smile. "Of course I have no doubt you would be a fine conversational partner as well." <nil_> Iuliana Turn On Wallace <nil_> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> nil_, 4+2 = 6 MC: Hard Move. Marking XP from highlighted stat 'Hot'. Temptation: Wallace carries +1 forward to providing advice, Iuliana gains string/XP upon completion. nil. fucked around with this message at 16:25 on Feb 5, 2016 |
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Feb 4, 2016 22:07
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 Hot: +1 | Cold: -1 | Vol: +2 | Dark: -1 XP: 0/5 | Harm 0/4 | Conditions: Location: Hotel Ballroom I've always dreamed of coming to Paris, but they've never featured a party like this - and for good reason, because this party is a truly dreadful affair! A bunch of drunk aristocrats acting all hoity toity and shuffling around all awful stiff and calling it dancing. No idea why I got invited to this thing. At least the food's good, I've already had a plate of incredibly expensive snacks. Sort of get hungry this time of the month... this phase of the moon, rather. Standing at the perimeter of the room, clad in my nicest outfit that still looks to be the shabbiest one here, I neither look or feel like I belong here. Half-full glass of champagne in one hand, I've done a fairly good job at glaring away would-be conversants and therefore have a small island of relative privacy, which means I've actually gotten to enjoy my drink and the music. It's not what I'm used to, and part of me wants to think it's too fancy and hate it, but it's beautiful anyways. Haven't decided if I'm going to stick around here much longer, though. Fancy party aside, I was hoping to see Paris and not just a ballroom. Then again, the food here's really amazing and it just smells so good, I'm having a hard time making up my mind. Should I stay, or should I go? Might be worth it to enjoy the city at night. Gonna have to spend a couple coming up hiding away in one of the train's storage cars, since they don't have windows and the moonlight won't reach me. If I mess up and end up transforming... it'll be bad. I can't even imagine what'll happen, but it'd be bloody. I'm so caught up in imagining accidentally destroying a train that I hardly noticed David approach. What gets my attention is the part when he suddenly stumbles forward, massively off-balance. Unluckily for him, it's directly into a wall. Looks like that might've hurt, but then again, he's a British soldier. In the army and everything, wearing the uniform to prove it. There's a part of me - a tiny, tiny, insignifigant shred of a part - that feels rotten for him. Most of me just thinks it's funny. "Careful now!" I tell him with a cheery laugh. "Wouldn't want you to get any blood on that pretty uniform of yours, would ya?" <Rauri> Shut Down David <Rauri> !r 2d6-1 <Krysmbot> Rauri, 9-1 = 8 Giving David the condition Clumsy, receiving one in exchange. Rauri fucked around with this message at 05:22 on Feb 5, 2016 |
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Feb 5, 2016 05:16
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Hot:2 Cold: -1 Volatile: -1 Dark: 1 XP: 2/5 Harm: 0/4 Conditions: Clumsy Location: Hotel Ballroom Well that could have uh, gone better. Much better, in fact. Falling on its own would have been bad, clumsiness was not one of the traits one of Her Majesty's soldiers were supposed to have, but to do it in front of Siobhan? Unfathomably mortifying; if I was one of the great poets I would have killed myself there and then, after mooning about in a dark room with half-finished love poems for a bit, of course. And she had seemed to not like my uniform? The stress on the word pretty seemed almost unpatriotic. But no, that couldn't be! Siobhan was too darling of a girl to harbor any ill will towards the monarchy. Oh of course the Irish hadn't been treated so well in the past, but surely she can see past that? Of course, the comment had clearly been one of sympathy for my plight, still not wonderful but pity was better than outright mocking. I stand up and dust off myself off, trying my best to look somewhat presentable, no matter how much my bloody head hurts. Composure found I turn to her, my true love, and smile sheepishly. "My uniform is quite alright, I assure you. And I apologize, I'm not sure quite what came over me. I had come to you to ask your hand for the next dance, if you feel so inclined to do so after my spill." I extend my hand in a manner that hopefully seems quite gentlemanly, never quite sure how to do it like the chaps in the Penny Dreadfuls, and await her response. Giving Siobhan the conditon Unpatriotic and using Excuses Are My Armor to gain an XP
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Feb 5, 2016 06:26
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 Hot: -1 Cold: -1 Volatile: +1 Dark: +2 XP: 0/5 Harm: 0/4 Conditions: Location: Hotel Ballroom For the moment, I'm delighted simply to bask in the appreciation of those who might offer it. I'd heard rumors that the arts of spiritualism were less evolved and perhaps less appreciated on the Continent, but this reception is very kind -- and potentially very useful. Madame Zenia loves melancholy, you understand, and its variations: grief, despair, and certain flavors of nostalgia. To embrace a novice spiritualist was very wise of her, I've learned, since I came to appreciate the audience which begs for my favor. There's one in particular I have rather high hopes for. Etienne, I believe he said his name was? A young man, dark and slender in the Parisian fashion, with faint circles of darkness around his eyes. If I know my faces, I'd say he's been crying recently. Madame Zenia and I would like to know why. Under better circumstances, I might comfort him, but... ah, you understand. Under better circumstances, he would never be near me. "The evening is yet young," I say to my crowd, sipping from my champagne glass. "Perhaps our hostess might arrange a room for a seance...?" Other practitioners of my profession would be leery of making such an offer, I know. They rely on the scouted room, the rigged furniture, the accomplices made of a host or his servants. For me, though, it is all the same, and perhaps I can impress. No move use yet -- mostly trying to set up to maybe Hungry Ghost a hapless NPC. I can roll Turn On or Manip if it's needed.
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Feb 5, 2016 07:22
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 Hot +1 Cold -1 Volatile -1 Dark +2 Harm 0/4 XP 0/5 Conditions: Aspect: The Maiden Location: Hotel Ballroom That Irish girl bathed in moonlight is being bothered by the flag-draped skeleton. She can handle herself, as the moon is eternally changing and bones are dust, but just the same, I am pulled. A drink appears in my hand from a tray carried by a young man in a suit much like many others. His cummerbund is red. The drink does not help my headache, though the man assures me it is expensive and fine, from someplace near here but far from my home. The red is the same as the red of the Countess. She asks my advice. "Yes, delightful," my voice says. No good can come of that, presently. In time. But not yet. I smile, I tilt my head just so. My eyes are open and inviting. It's not because she isn't delightful. That word is attached to her, cramponnement is the word someone will get stuck on far from now. But not her and I. Not now. Not yet. "Yes, there is someone you should meet. A soldier. A patriot. A healthy, strapping lad." He has a red cord around his neck, extending out past which I cannot see. She holds it in her mouth. I do not know what this means, but then the vision is gone. Turn on Iuliana: 2d6+1 9 Your suggestions carry a preternatural power. When you convince someone to do something, they carry 1 forward to doing it, and if they succeed choose one: mark experience; gain a String on them. I walk closer and closer. They bicker. The key is to drink half of what is in the glass, and then occasionally switch it from hand to hand. You mustn't talk unless you need to. No one will notice or think you're a teetotaler. The soldier offers his hand. It is presently covered in skin. I take it. "David, this... I'm sorry. But this line here. I had never noticed your hands before, old chum." I am conscious of the way my Rs rrroll. I never was back home. I have spoken with him on the train. He is a soldier. I have never killed anyone, personally. "Watch out for the Princess' bodyguard, Detlef," I say into his eyes. "No good can come of speaking with him, and even worse things if you cross him. This is a nice, useful hand, David. You have a spare, but there is no sense in throwing it away foolishly." I do not know if he will believe me, but then, would it change anything if he did? (And, conditional on the above) "But have you met the Countess, my friend? She likes interesting people, and I was telling her, you have stories, don't you?" I look at the loud girl. She has horns like a crescent moon, the way the stands in front of the lamp like that. I stop myself from staring. issuing a Warning of Doom to David: 2d6+2 12 Via "Cassandra" David gains the condition Doomed If he fails to avoid his fate, he marks experience and I take a string on him. If he avoids his fate, he gains a string on me. I mark XP for rolling Dark
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Feb 5, 2016 16:56
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Hot +2 | [b]Cold +1[/b] | Volatile -1 | Dark -1 XP: 2/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Location: Hotel Ballroom Wallace has an odd manner about him and I imagine if you were to meet him in the street, unwashed and bearded, it would make you hurry along, away from the rambling of the madman - though it is a fact that the more well-dressed and well-off you are, the more madness turns into being eccentric, no longer a fault but a delightful mark of distinction. Such are my thoughts, along with ruminations about how much I should distinguish myself from my peers, seemingly uniform in their attire and manner - and through all of it, I cannot help be intrigued by his affectations after all since at the very least, it requires my full attention, unlike many of my previous conversational partners where no more than the occasional nod was required. It is not difficult to guess at who he wants me to meet. I pick him out of the crowd, currently engaged with that woman whose 'social gaffes' have been the occasional delight to me. "The private? He is all that you said, I am sure, but some may say that a man's patriotism is only truly appreciated in one country. Your observations regarding his... strength of character is well-received, however." Although someone of strong character would not be useful for my purposes - it is a good thing that in my opinion patriots in general and the private in particular do not necessarily go hand in hand then. And it is true he is healthy... I readjust the hand holding my glass. "Please, I will let you make the introductions." Promising something Wallace wants: Socialize with David. I follow Wallace a step behind him, and he right away seizes control of the conversation, reading all manner of warnings from the lines of his hand - a hand he indicates may be lost, which seems rather extreme as well as unlikely. I look the young private Huxley over and do indeed wonder how young he is, his appearance youth perhaps made more apparent buy what I think is genuine bafflement at events unfolding around him. A small, mischievous impulse takes control of me - perhaps they are memories of childhood boys making fun of me - and I lightly take the private's hand into mine, in a manner suggesting he may kiss it if he wants to. "Countess Iuliana Cojocaru. Now Wallace tells me you have stories to tell, that much I knew, but now it seems that this night you are at risk of giving your hand to another?" I smile lightly - I certainly hope someone will be able to tell it is a joke, if a bit morbid. <nil_> Iuliana Turn On David <nil_> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> nil_, 4+2 = 6 +1 from carry forward from Temptation for a result of 7. Promise/string/give self? I am uncertain whether he finds my joke in poor taste - no, it seems more as if he is either still baffled by the omens given by Wallace or.. perhaps focused on something else entirely, namely Siobhan. Still, he has not said anything - I whip my head around and address Wallace. "Dear Wallace, perhaps starting off the conversation by implying the private may come to bodily harm may have been ill-advised, now he shall not be able to think of anything else!" <nil_> Iuliana Shut Down Wallace <nil_> !r 2d6+1 <Krysmbot> nil_, 9+1 = 10 Giving condition 'Undiplomatic'. Marking XP from highlighted stat Cold. I briefly seek Private Huxley's eyes and with my expression, call into question my last statement - then let my eyes wander over to Siobhan, indicating one thing that may be able to occupy his attention. nil. fucked around with this message at 16:30 on Feb 6, 2016 |
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Feb 5, 2016 20:08
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Hot: +1x | Cold: -1 | Vol: +2 | Dark: -1 XP: 1/5 | Harm 0/4 | Conditions: Location: Hotel Ballroom David smiles at me, and despite his somewhat disheveled condition from smacking into the wall... it's actually a sort of nice smile, if I had to evaluate it. He apologizes for tripping too, and then asks me if I want to dance, holding his hand out and everything. It's, well, he's obviously serious about it, but has he somehow not noticed what I think of him? Of him being a British soldier? Course, before I can blow him off, Wallace appears out of nowhere, grabs the hand that was offered to me, and starts talking as if he's touched. I've seen it before - he is one of the more interesting people on the Train, and I've been keeping my eyes on him. His whole "dark and mysterious artist" thing. So broody, though his palmistry about makes me laugh... as does his warning about David avoiding the bodyguard, which is just common sense with a veneer of occultism draped over it. Watching him, I don't even notice Iuliana till she speaks suddenly, and now she's holding his hand too! Does David just have the most impeccably fashioned hand of all time, or is there something else at work here? Is she actually interested in him, or just interested in seeing that he not dance with me for some reason? She teases Wallace, teases David, doesn't say a word to me, so I quietly growl involuntarily, hopefully not actually loud enough to be heard but I'm annoyed enough that it's possible it was. I hadn't planned on dancing with him, but like hell I'm gonna let Iuliana get away with disrespecting me like this. Roughly grabbing his hand out of hers, I don't say anything to her verbally - though my eyes are practically screaming that she'd just invaded my territory and is lucky that being glared at is all she's getting. "Yeah, and I'm Siobhan. Nice to meet you or whatever I'm supposed to say." Shutdown: Got a 6, hard move time Having grabbed David's hand, I take a step closer, interposing between him and these two newcomers and standing practically on top of the young soldier. . I may not want to dance with him, but it was offered to me and no one just gets to waltz up and act like I'm not even here. Smiling victoriously at him, I remind him of his earlier offer, mostly for the other two's Turn On: Got a 12, String Get on David. Marking XP. Rauri fucked around with this message at 20:59 on Feb 5, 2016 |
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Feb 5, 2016 20:30
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Hot:2 Cold: -1 Volatile: -1 Dark: 1 XP: 2/5 Harm: 0/4 Conditions: Clumsy, Doomed Location: Hotel Ballroom Oh...Oh dear. I was rather not prepared for any of this at all. This was becoming something Lord Byron would write, and I am rather not adequately equipped to deal with this. I suppose this is what I get for stepping into the affairs of the upper class. A whole pool full of sharks, as my father used to say, all grins with knives in them. And with Mr. Gage's warning thrown on top of it too. Don't see why I would mess with some princess's body guard, but there it was. Wish he hadn't grabbed my hand though, I prefer near strangers not take hold of my anatomy and tell me to keep hold of it. Before I can tell Wallace that I'm perfectly capable of keeping my hand attached to my body, thank you very much, the Countess joins in on the hand grabbing fray. Mother had always warned me about foreigners like her, how they were all back stabbing and conniving and shouldn't be see in a good Protestant city. But she was alluring in her own right. Seemingly detached from the rest of the crowd, the very picture of Continental nobility. More than that though, something about her was almost supernatural, a kind of cold beauty. She was tempting, even if her hand comment had been rather strange. I open my mouth to speak, willing to take her up on her offer, enraptured by her almost hypnotic smile. But Siobhan, my darling Siobhan, draws my attention back. What a fool I am, going for the Countess when a much more beautiful woman lies within my sight. I stand back and take her hands, drawing her away from the seer and the Countess without a word. As we step out on the dance floor I give her a beaming smile, finally alone with my true love at last. "Miss O'Flanagan, I must say that since the moment I set eyes upon you I have been enraptued. You are, without a doubt, the prettiest and most lovely girls I have ever seen. It is an honor to dance with you." <mcclay> David Turn On Siobhan <mcclay> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> mcclay, 10+2 = 12 <mcclay> David Shut Down Iuliana <mcclay> !r 2d6-1 <Krysmbot> mcclay, 5-1 = 4 <mcclay> rip Get one string on Siobhan, getting a hard move off the failed Shut Down mcclay fucked around with this message at 20:52 on Feb 5, 2016 |
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Feb 5, 2016 20:48
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Scene 1 Cont David Your intitial stumble on the dance floor gains you some attention and a few scrapes but I imagine you've been used to worse as a soldier (take one harm for the fall.) However one thing your soldierly career seems to have failed to prepare you for is being a Casanova. Guess the recruiter wasn't completely lying when he said women go crazy for the uniform. Still your impassioned words seem to have worked in your favour. Where did you learn to dance anyway? It's not the kind of skill one would expect in a soldier. Are you going to try and impress Siobahn with your skills or let her take the lead? Siobahn: Well well well looks your soldier boy has hidden depths. He can certainly turn a phrase pretty well even if he is rather clumsy. Of course you're not interested in someone so clumsy and obviously British are you? You're just reacting to the Countess's cattiness. (take the condition Possessive) . Now it seems he only has eyes for you what are you going to do to Iluliana to make sure she understands that you are top dog if you'll pardon the pun? Or would you just prefer to forget the whole thing and lead David in a merry dance? Iuliana You see Wallace cock his head almost as if he's evaluating you for something. Whether his interest is purely professional or something else is impossible to tell but you can't help but be slightly intrigued by it (Wallace takes a string on you) What does he see that you do not you wonder. But Siobahn it seems has seized your prize. Are you just going to let her get away with that? or do you have a plan to fight back? Helena While there are undoubtedly rooms free that you could use it would be best not to unduly unsettle your hosts plans. Assuming you care about such things of course. Speaking of your host Princess Kralta is looking rather bored sat in a corner with only her looming bodyguard Detlef for company. Do you intend to talk to her? Maybe you could get her to attend your seminar? Of course first of all you'd have to get a moment of her time without the attention of her hulking manservant a Teutonic giant of a man who would clearly look more comfortable in the uniform of the Garde Du Corps than his well tailored civilian suit. Still I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem for a woman of your talents would it. Wallace You must feel like something of a fifth wheel as the ladies argue over who has first claim on David. Are you jealous I mean after all did you see the way Iuliana lost interest in you the minute she laid eyes on him? Or was that all part of your plan anyway? You know with your unique gifts you could nudge things in a direction of your choosing. Have you ever meddled like that in the past? How did it turn out for the individuals involved?
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Feb 6, 2016 01:48
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 Hot -1 | Cold 1 | Vol -1| Dark 2 Exp 0/5 | Harm 0/4 | Conditions: None Jealous? Of course not, that would be ridiculous. She merely has a crowd by virtue of being rather more blatant with her occult interests. If I was to be as public about it, I would have a much larger crowd thronging around me, as I actually have the power to have results. And the girl might even act as a lightning rod, to take suspicion away from me if I was to have to use my powers on the trip in a way people might notice. Nothing to feel jealous about, no sir. Besides, it would be such a pain to have so many people clamoring for my attention with their petty needs. No, much better like this. Well. Maybe one or two might be nice. For instance, what on earth is so interesting about that Siobhan that has David slobbering all over her, and what in hell is so interesting about David that has so many people slobbering all over him? As for my latest mark, what on earth could you mean by that? I certainly am not taking people for rides like some cheap harlot either, how dare you? If you rather meant who did I have my eye on, well for this it’d have to be the Princess Kralta, wouldn’t it? It isn’t every day one is invited to a royal ball by a true princess, this is a rather great opportunity for me to make a powerful and rich acquaintance. Of course the question is, how can I win her favor? So as I walk along the side of the dance hall towards our Princess, I casually trace a pentagram in the dew on the side of my wine goblet, and murmur a swift charm as I bright the wine up to my lips. A weak spirit should be called forth, invisible to all, to go flit through the Princess and return with what I wish to know. <godfish> gaze about the princess <godfish> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> godfish, 2+2 = 4 <godfish> an auspicious start In theory, anyway. GodFish fucked around with this message at 08:49 on Feb 6, 2016 |
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Feb 6, 2016 06:38
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Hot +2 | [b]Cold +1[/b] | Volatile -1 | Dark -1 XP: 2/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Location: Hotel Ballroom While it is true that Siobhan's behavior towards me may be considered rude and it would be well within my role as a countess to clasp my hand to my bosom and stare at her with eyes wide and mouth open before providing some acerbic remark, my actual problem is that I have to keep myself from chortling when Siobhan tells me off. Countesses do not chortle, after all. And why am I not offended? It may be that the matter is insignificant, or perhaps that Siobhan had some reason to be insulted, even though it was not my intention - but for why I am amused? I do not know the true nature of my more physical transformation, but I do know that I have moved farther away from the hearth providing the warmth of life. The fire's flames still illuminate my face and I have not yet slipped fully into the darkness beyond, but I am no longer fully one or the other, alive or dead. So, in light of this, the occasional reminder that am indeed still among the living in some manner is appreciated - and occasionally, the 'peers' in whose company I am now perhaps do not do the best job of it, with their stiffness in both their bodies, their words and their nature. I suppose Siobhan stands out among them, perhaps reminds me of different days - though if I were surrounded by a hundred of her and one refined gentleman, I may very well have the same thoughts about him and not about her! I give the two of them dancing - quite the sight - a smile, then turn towards Wallace. "Well, if brevity is the soul of wit, then perhaps we shall write down this conversation of ours and one of us shall be the next Oscar Wilde." Has my 'prize' slipped through my finger? I suppose so, but it does not bother me overly - private Huxley is a sweet young man, though there is no need for me to rush things. He is a fellow passenger, after all, and any plans I might have can wait until later. In fact, trying to... take care of my thirst with someone I am going to share a train with now seems unwise, not when I am surrounded by such a variety of people I will not see again after tonight. Of course, it is still important to make a good impression on my fellow passengers, perhaps to prepare seeds for later designs, but there is no need to rush into things. "I suppose the private's stories will have to wait. I am sure he will find the time during the long hours of our travel." I will have to be careful in voicing my request to Wallace - I can't very well tell him I want to know who I would find easiest and safest to drain sweet, hot blood from. The thought of it fills me with warmth for a moment and I lower my head, demurely, as I move in front of Wallace. "I was hoping to meet someone tonight that I, indeed, would only have the chance to meet tonight - for soon, we shall leave Paris. And... please do not tell this to anyone else..." I lay a hand onto the front of his shoulder. "...I have been listening to - let us charitably call them 'confident' - people all evening and for a change, I would much prefer someone with a more... accommodating character." The phrase 'malleable will' comes to my mind, but I may already be revealing too much. I look into his eyes, try to will him to provide me with answers without understanding him - while he himself is an intriguing man, I suspect his will would need more work than I would be able to put in to be made malleable. <nil_> Iuliana Turn On Wallace <nil_> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> nil_, 9+2 = 11 String on Wallace. Your suggestions carry a preternatural power. When you convince someone to do something, they carry 1 forward to doing it, and if they succeed choose one: mark experience; gain a String on them. Suggestion: Use his supernatural gifts to determine someone that will not be on the train and would be accommodating to Iuliana (for the purposes of bloodsucking). nil. fucked around with this message at 12:30 on Feb 8, 2016 |
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Feb 6, 2016 17:25
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Hot -1 Cold -1 Volatile +1 Dark +2 Harm 0/4 XP 2/5 Conditions: Undiplomatic Aspect: The Mother Location: Hotel Ballroom Forgot as part of last post, I change aspects as part of Cassandra. You close your eyes for a moment as Miss O'Flanagan rushes off with the Private in tow. You stand up a little straighter, shift your glass to your left hand, and feel a little more relaxed. You tried. You always try. "Alas, it is a shame about the Private. The Princess, she has a thing for... women with exotic names... and can be rather forceful in her introductions. And her bodyguard, well, he lost a brother against the British, so, an excuse to go after a man in uniform... I hoped to spare him the difficulty of the interaction. Ah well. They never listen, you know. I try and I try, but they never listen. It is difficult not to tell straightaway when things seem so imperative. Perhaps you could suggest a more diplomatic manner? My father simply barks orders, my brothers shout, my mother interrupts. and Miss Ambrose, well..." you sigh. "Well, she's passed now, so it doesn't matter how she used to tell people things. But this is a party, a joyous occasion. No time for thoughts like that." You shake your head and try to smile. You listen attentively to the Countess' request, nodding politely at her request. Though it has been only a short time since your Miss Ambrose was... consumed... it is difficult not to find the Countess, if not in the same manner, at least fetching of a different sort. Has it been long enough? Would it be proper? Would you even allow yourself such thoughts? But then, she does not desire your company, but that of someone temporary, someone she will never see again, someone she can have and then... Does this mean she is interested in your company long term? How do they do such things in... whereever it is she is from? She certainly seems to want you to direct her. Very well. You are not bothered by such things. You outgrew them, at least for the present moment. Your love is dead. You loved Miss Ambrose almost as much as she loved you. You can help someone else, and then watch from afar. Vicarious pleasures, like a fine wine and a good novel, like watching the children you and she would have had play in the fields. They do not hurt quite as sharply, but then they can be analyzed so much more thoroughly. "I think I take your meaning, old girl," you say with a friendly smile. You produce a silver cigarette case, a gift from your older brother, and offer her one. "If you'd like? They're Egyptian. My brother thought I should get acquainted with the styles of the East. They've a smooth, calming effect. Quite delightful. Or just take one for later, to share. And as for your request..." You scan the crowd, looking for people you've met, people you've seen, people you will meet... The smoke enters your lungs, and then exits your nostrils. It doesn't take effect right away. The Countess loved it before when you took your time, though whether you're counting threads or simply looking for faces you cannot quite say even to yourself. There. A return traveler. Miss Alice Grey. On her way back from Vienna. A viola player, traveling alone after a row with her former fiance in Brussels, over her double standards with her poet and his painter. Plays cards poorly, constantly counting and sorting them. Responsible for the death of her father when she was sixteen. Speaks a lot, but of nothing. Paris is her final destination. "I don't know if this is quite your style, so, forgive me if I am off the mark, but the young woman with the red scarf and green reticule? Miss Grey is one of the least forceful bridge players I have ever had the misfortune to partner with. I don't know if she would be quite the interesting company that the Private would have been, as she tends to talk over everyone, and merely repeat the last thing said in a slightly different tone of voice, rather ruining the effect, but if it's someone less... forceful... you're looking for..." And just what will happen to the Countess, you wonder? What does the smoke curl into? What Doom follows her? Gaze into the Abyss for Iuliana (Dark): 2d6+3 11 Via Washer at the Ford, "The Visions show you their Fate, and they gain the Condition Doomed No change of aspects or XP as I have already done both of these.
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Feb 8, 2016 03:39
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 Hot: -1 Cold: -1 Volatile: +1 Dark: +2 XP: 1/5 Harm: 0/4 Conditions: Location: Hotel Ballroom New logo to be more visually distinct from Wallace's! Sorry for biting your style, TBF. Anyway... The key to successful spiritualism, regardless of how much power you have or don't have, is to look harmless. The wealthiest of my profession are feather-wearing widows and rather fluttery-looking young ladies: the sort who offer no threat, no disturbance, not even social inconvenience. Princess Kraita and her bodyguard look the sort who might find imposition from me an inconvenience, and without a hungry audience, I am reluctant to risk such a thing. That bodyguard alone... rather dashing, in his way, but also rather dangerous, isn't he? The sort of gentleman one might consider, with a touch of longing, but whom one did not dare attempt to suggest that he would be a welcome suitor. These days, I know, I could end him very simply. Madame Zenia would not allow him the insult of harming me. Nonetheless, tonight such a thing is simply not done. I continue my easy chatter with those nearby, but I allow my awareness to go voyaging, probing at the assembled crowd to try and find soft spots, the points of vulnerability that might yield a valuable new client or friend. I pay particular attention to those faces I recognize from the train; after all, the Parisian guests are potential clients of an evening, but my fellow travelers are potential clients until Constantinople, or beyond. That unpleasant Scotsman, the rather handsome but distracted-looking Brit, the Irish lady who's taken something of an interest, those few who have done me favors... who among them might feed Madame Zenia's hunger and improve my reputation? Gaze into the Abyss about emotionally vulnerable targets: 2d6+2 12 XP marked above for rolling with highlighted stat Dark. Since Helena lacks any current conditions, my choices are lucid/detailed visions and clear directions/1 forward to acting on them, natch. Antivehicular fucked around with this message at 10:25 on Feb 11, 2016 |
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Feb 8, 2016 07:57
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Hot:2 Cold: -1 Volatile: -1 Dark: 1 XP: 2/5 Harm: 1/4 Conditions: Clumsy, Doomed Location: Hotel Ballroom The type of dancing I know is born out of drink and boredom, your partner a serving girl in a rowdy Egyptian tavern, your mates clapping along in the background. Certinaly nothing that would be proper to show to my kind, delicate Siobhan. Though she is rather, uh, vigorous, with her dancing. I'm fairly sure that not the current courtly style. But I'm close to her and thats all that matters, I'm more than happy to let her lead me in the dance. As we pass by the Countess I remember that she wanted to hear some of my stories later in the drip. The music pauses for a second and I manage to get out "Countess Iuliana, I'll have to share my stories laTER!", before I'm swept back into the dance. Good God Siobhan can move, I'm sure that this isn't the courtly style at all. Not that it matters, the whole thing is almost intoxicating. The world turns into a blur as we dance and I let myself be lulled into the rhythms of the music, mind briefly wandering as I share this moment with my True Love. Gazing into the Abyss about Siobhan: 2d6+1 5 Rolling like poo poo tonight Also promising Iuliana that I'll talk to her later on the train
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Feb 8, 2016 17:48
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Hot +2 | [b]Cold +1[/b] | Volatile -1 | Dark -1 XP: 2/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Doomed Location: Hotel Ballroom What strange paths Wallace's mind travels. Though perhaps seeing that I only hear what he is telling me - about the reasons for his warnings, his insights into the princess and her bodyguard and most surprisingly, about his family and acquaintances - who knows whether that which produced these observations, that which resides in his head is not stranger still. On the other hand, perhaps it is a calculated aspect of his 'mad prophet' persona, for, after all, who would believe omens of doom about forces beyond your control and understanding if he were to assume a manner of calm rationality? Perhaps if he were to become a banker or some other manner of self-described 'financial expert'. There is no artifice I can tell from what he is saying, however, and it would be foolish of me not to engage him now that he is as talkative as this. I suspect he has a bit of an artist's soul, something I perhaps recognize from my all-too brief stint as an actress - though I will not fall into the same traps as I did back then and once again have my dreams and ambition ruined by the faithlessness of others. But... all of this is in the past and right before me is the chance to get further acquainted to a very interesting gentleman with an even more interesting supposed ability. "Your family shares in your gift then? " I do not mention the tale I have engineered should my nature ever be discovered - a weakness hiding in the veins of my family, a family I never belonged to. "What a childhood it must have been. Although I gather that Miss Ambrose may be a acquaintance of a different kind, perhaps with a connection to you other than the one of... the blood." I involuntarily lick over my teeth inside my mouth, I would like to imagine that my voice putting such an emphasis on that last word was a conscious choice, but I would by lying to myself. It is unfortunate as I would like to hear about Miss Ambrose, but I shall have to stop myself and see whether he will tell me more on his own. "As for your question regarding more diplomatic ways..." I wave my hand while looking at the masses, and I can feel a speech building inside me that instinct tells me an educated countess would say. "I shall speak plainly. If you walk up to a man and tell him he will die on the morrow, he will think you want to threaten him. If you walk up to a man and tell him he will be rich on the morrow, he will think you are trying to cheat him.The crux of the matter is that you must not represent uncertainty in both your person and what you are saying - I have found that someone must either have faith in what he is being told to do or in the person telling him before he will consider it, unless, of course, there are no other compulsions influencing his person." I put my hand over my mouth, turn over to face Wallace and smile. "But listen to me talk. I am sure you did not wish for me to entangle you in a philosophical discussion. It is as you said, this is a joyous occasion." I take the cigarette offered, both because it is good manners and because I am, in fact, intrigued and excited - enough not to comment on him calling me 'old girl' which is an affectation I could do without. As suggested, I take the cigarette for later - perhaps it will even be of use in gaining access to what I know would truly calm me, after the initial pleasure of partaking in the hot, pulsing vividness of it. "Much obliged. You will have to tell me about your family and your brother." I pause for dramatic effect, as if considering something, prompted by Wallace's gift - even though I had already decided earlier. "If you again have any insights in the future, perhaps I can help you make sure that things proceed as they should. It is the least I can do." Wallace seems to have finally found someone matching my interest, and whether it is based on a true gift or simply an understanding of human nature does not seem important at the moment. I study the young woman out of the corner of my eyes and at first glance, she seems to fit the requirements - a certain amount of genuine demureness beyond even what would be required to be fashionable. The scarf, too, is auspicious in a way. I am briefly pulled from my thoughts by private Huxley's voice and once again, I cannot help but smile at him and Siobhan and their showing on the dace floor. Shouting back at him would be inappropriate, I'm afraid, so I simply nod and smile at him and it is even true, that I am looking forward to tales from the East. "I know it must seem odd to you, Wallace, but you will have to allow my peculiarities. And come to think of it, I adore her scarf, the color is so vibrant it almost seems alive, I must ask her about the fabric and..." Threatening an extended discussion about fashion should make Wallace feel less of a sting from me leaving him, if only for a little while. I allow him to say what might still be on his mind - a thing I suspect is always active and always searching - before taking my leave and approaching the young woman. Even though she is surrounded by people, I do get the impression of her being alone, which is to my purpose, however morbid it may sound. "Hello. Forgive my intrusion, but I could not help but notice you, though I admit, my first reason was a shallow one." I reach out and feel the very end of her scarf between two fingers. "Your scarf is marvelous and the color truly makes you stand out, it shouldn't be all black and white all the time, no? But..." I smile and hold out my hand. "I am Countess Iuliana Cojocaru, and I am afraid you made me forget my manners. Why don't we start anew? I can let you introduce yourself to me, and then you can tell me about the fantastic material of the scarf." My eyes flicker and behind my smile, my tongue once again brushes against my teeth, unseen. "I know I am presumptuous, but would you perhaps like to discuss it somewhere more private? I am sure that sooner rather than later two unattended as beautiful as us would be interrupted by some invitation for a dance." <nil_> Iuliana Manipulate Alice Grey <nil_> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> nil_, 11+2 = 13 Iuliana wants her to trust Iuliana and go somewhere private, motive: flattery. Your suggestions carry a preternatural power. When you convince someone to do something, they carry 1 forward to doing it, and if they succeed choose one: mark experience/gain a String on them.
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Feb 8, 2016 18:32
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Hot -1 Cold -1 Volatile +1 Dark +2 Harm 0/4 XP 2/5 Conditions: Undiplomatic Aspect: The Mother Location: Hotel Ballroom "No, no. These... gifts, as you call them. My father, he runs a printing press, with contracts for the mint, the newspapers, the publishers. My brothers will follow him in the business when he passes. I, too, am supposed to. I ought to be at Edinburgh right now, studying, but... Well." You sigh. You take a drink. "Miss Ambrose. Padget. We would have married, but instead, she..." You pause. Which words are right? "Became sick. There was nothing that could be done. As I said, a too heavy and somber topic for a party. I seem to bring people down enough, as is." You attempt a smile along with the rise in tone, indicating the last remark was made in jest. "A trip to the east, to take my mind off things, as it were." You do find her easy to talk to, so of course it should come as no surprise that she understands conversational tactics. "I will bear that in mind, and will try to break any future developments gently. I don't mind a spot of philosophy, but, as you say, now isn't the time." But perhaps you oughtn't dominate her attention for the entire evening. She is polite, and it is best to let those who are polite not strain their manners any further than necessary. It will be good for you to have a friend. But then how many of those tactics is she using on you? Is that a thing to worry about? "Nothing peculiar about it at all. It is a truly lovely garment, just the red of those strawberries. Perhaps if you asked nicely enough, she'd give it to you? I'd bet it would look fetching on you, as well. You be sure to let me know how it goes when we meet again. Meanwhile, I'm going to help myself. Break a leg," you wish her with a wink and a friendly, innocent smile. Temptation: Your suggestions carry a preternatural power. When you convince someone to do something, they carry 1 forward to doing it, and if they succeed choose one: mark experience/gain a String on them. Temptation: Acquire and keep Miss Grey's scarf You enjoy strawberries with fresh cream. These forks are real silver. The smell mixes with the after scent lingering in your nostrils, the taste and the smell becoming one and the same in your throat. Maintain a distance, but watch from afar. People dance in a circle. Women and men talk. Some you know, some you have seen in passing, some are complete strangers.
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Feb 9, 2016 00:40
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Hot: +1x | Cold: -1 | Vol: +2 | Dark: -1 XP: 1/5 | Harm: 0/4 | Conditions: Unpatriotic, Possessive Location: Hotel Ballroom Of course I'm not interested in David, even if you definitely can't say the same about him regarding me. The way he's beaming at me, puffing his chest out and trying to sweet talk me, it's so obvious that he thinks I'm going to fall for it. I smirk back and say nothing when he confesses to finding me to be the 'prettiest and most loveliest girl he's ever seen'. I'm sure he'd have said the same thing to Iuliana if he was dancing with her instead of me. Still, going to remember that line I think. The dancing's not so bad though. Unlike everyone else here, I think we're actually having fun. Maybe it's because everyone else is dancing differently than we are, but who cares. I was never going to fit in someplace this fancy anyways - the only dances I know are much livelier than those of the stolid and stuck-up aristocrats around us, so we're going with one of those, and to my surprise David's actually managing to keep up with it. As we draw in close again, after I've spun about once, I ask him "Where'd you learn to dance like this?" Hope I didn't sound as surprised as I am. Still, something's off about this dance floor, it's weird. I mean, not to brag, but my sense of smell's way better than it used to be. Which believe me is more of a curse than you'd think, like right now for example. Something - or more likely someone - smells downright bizarre, and not in a good way. Eyes darting about the pompous and pampered dancers about us, I'm doing my best to sniff out its source... <Rauri> Gaze about weird smell <Rauri> !r 2d6-1 <Krysmbot> Rauri, 3-1 = 2 <Antivehicular> "yep, that's a weird smell all right" <Rauri> well, was fishing for drama, guess I got it
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Feb 9, 2016 08:21
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Hot +2 | [b]Cold +1[/b] | Volatile -1 | Dark -1 XP: 2/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Doomed Location: Hotel Ballroom As I await the young woman's response, I have a moment to mentally look back at the latter parts of my conversation with Wallace. He seems to be a man of some melancholy, and justifiably so. When he mentioned his wife-to-be being taken from him by what assume to be some sickness, my heart went out to him and for the moment, all my questions about which parts of his manner were an 'act' and which were not were gone and all I could see was a man in pain, being dealt a poor hand by fate. Which may prompt some joking remarks from those insensitive given his supposed connection and insight into fate itself, but I for my part could only find pity in my heart. Pity for him and melancholy memories of my own of love lost and betrayed twice over - one love proven false by the man that promised to stay true to me, but who instead stayed true to his profession and vanished when the curtains fell and the play was over. And the other, the result of that first false love, taken away by sickness... it pains me to think about. But all of that is in the past and I am a different person, and better for it. Nevertheless, I will talk with Wallace again - his gifts, if genuine, are remarkable and it would feel right to perhaps provide him with some comfort in this matter. And if it can be arranged to be to my advantage? All the better. To be quite frank, I would likely have postponed my approach towards the young lady I am engaged with and decided to discuss his interest in fashion in general and the scarf in particular had he not wished me luck in a very peculiar manner - 'break a leg'. It is not that I am unfamiliar with the phrase and thus took offence at its literal reading, it was where I was familiar with the phrase from that ever so slightly disturbed me and made me decide to take my leave from Wallace after all. The first time I heard the phrase was when I had my brief stint as an actress, at the theatre. I am sure I could come up with some explanation for why a countess might have once worked as an actress - the rich and powerful are eccentric, after all - but it made me wonder how much Wallace knew, how much he had seen. I could not detect him saying the phrase in such a manner that it was meant to carry hidden meaning, so perhaps it was merely a coincidence. Whatever the case may be, it seems inevitable that I will talk to Wallace again. If all goes well, I will have the scarf and will no longer feel the subtle but persistent urging of my thirst.
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Feb 9, 2016 15:29
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 Hot -1 | Cold 2 | Volatile -1 | Dark 1 XP: 1/5 Harm: 0/4 Conditions: -- The festivities, it seemed, were in full swing. Paris was a place where these sorts of gatherings occurred often, and to most people they were simply that; gatherings. But for men and women like Cloyd, determined to find something, anything that would help with their goals...these sorts of parties were merely distractions, hurdles to jump over on the way to the finish line. When the train first stopped in Paris, Cloyd was surprised once more at the sheer size of the city, the scope. A killer could hide here quite easily, he thought, gazing out at the Eiffel Tower. However, it would also be one of the stupidest places to hide. The city is huge; you can't insult a baron or his wife without word traveling like a great forest fire. Let alone the sorts of deeds the man Cloyd was seeking had perpetrated. His suspicions, it seemed, were confirmed by the local constabulary and and police officers. They'd heard neither hide nor hair of a mysterious killer from years ago on the run. Maybe he hadn't ran at all? What if he was waiting back home, just plotting his next spree? Cloyd nearly decked the seventh Parisian detective he asked. How could you not know!? A man can't just vanish... The thought was brought to a rather ironic end, as Cloyd drifted through the walls of the palace. If a man can walk through walls, a man can vanish, he supposed. The thought still didn't sit right with him. None of it did. The party, Cloyd decided, was not worth investigating. Those characters from the train are there, and they will be when he returns to the ballroom. For now, his best option to find leads was to investigate the palace itself. Every room, every drawer, cabinet, cupboard, armoire ...nothing would be safe. Letting his intuition guide him, he drifted slowly, from bedchamber to library to drawing room, and searched quietly, carefully. What would he find? Where should he go next? It was past time for Cloyd to get some answers, he thought. It was time to do something. 10 on Gaze into the Abyss, so clear visions/answers and forwarding/clear goals, also taking 1 XP for highlight
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Feb 10, 2016 19:51
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Scene 1 Cont Ophelia: Your conjured spirit moves invisibly across the ballroom towards the Princess passing through numerous people without a single one of them noticing until it reaches the royal corner where it stops and halts for a moment preparing to ferret out the secrets of royalty. Or so you thought. No sooner does it settle than do the Princesses eyes flick up as if she can see the spirit and you hear her hiss "-We are being watched." to her bodyguard. Suddenly the connection between you and the spirit is severed and you feel a sharp head pain the worst you've ever felt in your life. What do you do? hold steady to avoid fainting. If you fail you gain the condition delicate. Iuliana: "Countess." She gulps nervously "A-pleasure to meet you. I'm Miss Grey," she says rallying at last. "thank you it was a gift from an admirer" she says fingering the scarf. "I'm glad you like it still there are quite a few like it in Paris I could tell you where to find them but I'm sure we don't want the world to hear our fashion secrets." she smiles at you "We could go discuss it in private of course if you'd like I have a room we could retire too." You can see her heart beat faster and faster and her face flush with excitement Is she implying what you think she is implying? Does it interest you in any way or are you just interested in her as something to feed upon? Wallace: The room fades out as the red strawberry juice trickles down your chin. The way the red drips down her chin. the thirst satisfied for now. But still there always there lurking. It will take her eventually unless she learns to control or suppress it. Eventually she will give into the the thirst and they will come with fire and blade to hunt. A hunt she will not survive but lie as if dead on the ground of the foreign soil she'd foolishly made the attempt to claim in place of her father. She is truly doomed unless another steps in to change her fate. You jerk back to reality with a start and see Iuliana circle Alice the dance of the hunt playing again. Do you intervene or will you leave them to their respective fates? Helena: The emotions of the crowd swirl around you and you feel Madam Zenia and your senses stretch out into the crowd. Sampling the emotions of the crowd. You feel Madam Zenia sniff and quest until her senses settle on on one individual. "That one" she whispers softly as she focuses on Wallace. "He carries a burden he would grateful to put down for but a moment and you my dear could take it and we shall feast." You can feel her eagerness to begin. Has she ever been this eager before? If she was what was the last person to attract so much attention? Either way how do you plan to make your move on Wallace? Siobhan: The scents swirl and dance around you but one above all seems to haunt you. The scent of death. Your death perhaps? The death of your temporary dance partner? the death of one of your travelling companions. Death will come for you all in the end and you are suddenly uncomfortably aware of it. The thought causes you to falter and miss a step crashing into another pair of dancers. "Watch where you are going you clumsy oaf." the man snarls at you. Who was it? and are you going to put up with that kind of lip from them? David: The dance whirls and spins around you as your eyes feast on Siobahn. The way she moves with such grace and power is mesmerising. Your steps feel almost automatic as your eyes feast on her. You find yourself lost in the dance and want nothing more than to continue forever. You therefore spot immediately when her steps begin to falter and she starts to slip. You reach out your arms to catch her but she seems to pull away despite your desperate desire to hold her close. Then a voice behind her rough and angry and she whirls to confront it. What do you do? Cloyd No wall can stop you as you pass from room to room. Thankfully most of the are deserted or occupied by those sleeping the sleep of the innocent so you do not need to hide. Until that is you arrive at lit room. Where two men? sit in conversation. Luckily you materialise inside an Armoire and not in front of the wall and are ideally placed to here the discussion. "Our hour is close at hand" the first man says "Soon the Master's summoning will be complete a few scant weeks and then we shall rule Europe as gods. Is all in place for tonight?" He queries. You fail to hear the response but the voice sounds satisfied "Good you know the time and place required. Remember she must be murdered at midnight if the ritual is to work as planned." Murder the word rushes through your veins or would if you still had any could these be the killers you have sought? "and don't get sloppy we do not wish a repeat of London" Yes it must be! What are you going to do. Even as a man you were not strong enough to take on even one killer let alone two! As a ghost are your options greater or lesser? Ferrosol fucked around with this message at 21:19 on Feb 10, 2016 |
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Feb 10, 2016 21:16
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Hot -1 Cold -1 Volatile +1 Dark +2 Harm 0/4 XP 2/5 Conditions: Undiplomatic Aspect: The Mother Location: Hotel Ballroom You can feel the red juice sliding down the edge of your lip, down towards you chin. It reminds you of a bloody nose, which one doesn't matter (Father, brother, teacher, prefect...), but instead of the metallic tang, your mouth is filled with the too sweet, pebbled texture of the fruit, masticating slowly, sliding down your throat in soft lumps. Suddenly, it isn't as delicious or pleasurable as it had been before. It occurs to you that the Countess is, far from a member of that peculiar sisterhood attempting to be discreet, is in fact a murderess, perhaps in the style of Elizabeth Bathory, and that you have just delivered her her next victim. Eternal, the Countess may be hundreds of years old, killing her way through hordes of virgins to slake her thirst for youth, her emotions a mere shell and facade, an actress' presentation designed to facilitate her industry, more young ground under the mill to keep herself at the apex. But if this is the case, then Miss Grey is an appalling choice, for, despite her demeanor, she is certainly no blushing virgin. But no, that cannot be right, not completely, in any case. She's one of the only people who's shown any care this entire trip; how could she be a monster? Surely you cannot let her fall into this fate, if it can be avoided. What can be done? What could be done? Rushing forward and shouting, this path leads to your death! is clearly out of the question. She said so mere moments ago. How does one reinsert oneself back into a conversation after parting? How does one get a letter back once the postman has long ridden off? How does one block the rooster from crowing in the morning? You pick up a napkin and clean your face, hopefully before too many people have stared. Of course. Food. The plan seems to click, as thrown together as it is. You approach, even paced, calm. "Countess, Miss Grey. I know I just took my leave moments ago, but I've had a vision. The sweetness of the strawberries has reminded me that I've got, stashed away in my room, a rare medicinal herb from the middle east. Hashish, if you've heard of it. Quite popular in some circles around Paris, if you've never had the pleasure. I can think of no finer a pair to share the experience with. I really must insist. It's imperative." Spending a string on Iuliana to offer XP in exchange for doing so. Toph Bei Fong fucked around with this message at 09:05 on Feb 11, 2016 |
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Feb 11, 2016 09:03
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Hot: +1x | Cold: -1 | Vol: +2x | Dark: -1 XP: 2/5 | Harm: 0/4 | Conditions: Unpatriotic, Possessive Location: Hotel Ballroom Whirling out of our dance as I'm overcome by that horrible scent, I wish I could say that embarrassing myself by misstepping was my foremost concern. No, no that's split between what I smelled, and who I accidentally collided with afterwards. It's not like I've never smelled death before. I mean... I've killed things. I definitely killed and ate a pig on my very first night as a werewolf, hunted a few other animals I can't really recall after that. But it's never smelled so human to me, and I don't like it at all. I can't even tell whose scent it is, but that its here at all so close to the moon is agitating, distracting, unwelcome. Strong and powerful and free as I am when I transform, it's not going to be enough - I can feel that. I'm going to die one day. I try and picture it, and- As for who I collided with? A proud, prickly, pompous, and most of all portly so called "noble" named Augustus St. Jermaine. Practically bouncing off his profound rotundness, I'm lucky to still be on my feet, not that it matters when he finishes slowly turning towards me. He calls me an oaf, which... well, maybe he could've gotten away with that earlier in the month. Now though? He picked the WRONG person to call an oaf. "It wouldn't have been a problem if you weren't takin up half the dance floor!" I shout louder than I should, suddenly shoving him really hard away from his (pitiable) dance partner. He's not ready for it at all - guess he thought I'd never dare strike him or some other dumb noble shite like that - and away he goes! Can't say I'm not grinning about it. I've worked in factories since I was seven and I'm stronger than ever now that the family blessing's manifested in me. Honestly, I hope he's hurt. <Rauri> Lash out at Augustus St. Jermaine <Rauri> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> Rauri, 7+2 = 9 <nilPhone> Nice He takes 1 harm, can deal 1 harm back, and Siobhan takes a string on him and gains +1 against him on all rolls for remainder of scene. Marking XP. "Now where were we?" I ask David as I turn towards him, as if nothing at all had happened. Rauri fucked around with this message at 09:23 on Feb 11, 2016 |
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Feb 11, 2016 09:19
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Hot: -1 Cold: -1 Volatile: +1 Dark: +2 XP: 1/5 Harm: 0/4 Conditions: Location: Hotel Ballroom The eagerness in Madame Zenia's tone is rather novel, to an extent that it's a bit surprising.I can remember only one client who brought out anything like that tone of voice: old General von Hagen from home, who'd seen service for four years in the War Between the States and was burdened with unanswered questions about his comrades-in-arms. Oh, the things we teased out of him -- the things he'd seen, the things he'd done! He'd died quite peacefully in his bed, the pains of decades lifted away, and yet Madame Zenia and I still had the better of that arrangement. And he paid well, to boot! Is the resemblance simply that this Scotsman is so... eccentric? To speak so readily about others' imagined futures and so little of his own presence... it's uncommon, but it's not unknown, especially for men. Male clients often need soothing, a few gestures to assuage the shame of speaking frankly to a woman -- and taking a position of powerlessness, no less! General von Hagen was so much the same. I am uncertain that my tactics of charm will work, though, against someone as unusual as Mr. Gage. Even by the standards of our... odd... fellow travelers, he is a difficult one to understand. For Mr. Gage, I suspect, the key is authenticity. I do not generally strive for inauthenticity, you understand, but honesty is a virtue of degrees. This may require all of my honest interest and an unfeigned sympathy. I make my apologies to the crowd and weave through the partygoers to approach Mr. Gage and... ah, is that Countess Cojocaru? This has become complicated. Nonetheless, I press on. No great conquest is ever truly simple, is it? "Ah, pardon me," I say with a smile. "You are an arresting group, and I was curious to see how the evening has treated you, Mr. Gage, Countess... ah, and this charming lady." The scarf may be the most charming thing about her, but it is always best to be polite. "May I be introduced?" So hey, I don't think we ever worked out what debt Helena owes to Iuliana. Do your worst, nil.
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Feb 11, 2016 11:10
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Hot +2 | Cold +1 | Volatile -1 | Dark -1 XP: 4/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Doomed Location: Hotel Ballroom Belatedly taking completed Temptation for Wallace (point out someone with weak will): Marking XP. At first I am merely pleased with the effect I have on Miss Grey, for in its flattery she could not have done better had she a script to follow which she rehearsed meticulously a hundred times. I wonder though, what it is that truly flatters me - is it that it is clear that Miss Grey is astonished at an actual countess talking with her and thus the flattery is indirect, as it compliments my ability of truly inhabiting my new role? Or is it perhaps something more direct and what pleases me is Miss Grey having such a reaction to me, regardless of what version of me I am currently presenting? I stop examining my own thoughts for the moment and smile at her, once again putting the scarf between thumb and index finger, rubbing the two together. "It is obvious any admirer of yours would have impeccable taste." I smile. I can... feel her blood quicken, her heart beating faster - being able to sense such things a gift of my new condition - and what I could see in her manner before seems to intensify, just under the surface: the nervousness and the desire to please. It goes beyond flattery but It would be a lie to say it was not pleasurable, to see someone so enamoured with me, just by looking at me and being granted the slightest bit of attention. My mind halts - that word, 'enamoured', why did I pick it? Miss Grey is offering for us to retire to a private room, and suddenly, her immediate reaction to me and her offer of privacy take on another aspect entirely. Is she suggesting...? The internal voice of the countess I have taught myself to use even in my own head fails me for the moment, and my mind drags up the phrase 'roll in the hay' which is neither fitting for my old nor my new life. Would a countess indulge in such things, or would I reveal myself to be a fraud? I am at risk of losing my composure. I calm myself down when I realize it is as if I am nervously glancing at my script because I cannot remember my line, hoping that I will find salvation if I just follow the words laid out before me. But this is not why I took on the new role, what my transformation truly means for me - its promise was not to restrict me, but to make me free and more capable of choosing what I want. No, my old life was the one of restriction. So, the question then is: what do I want? I look at Miss Grey - I regret that she has not told me her first name yet - and wonder. In truth, I cannot tell my feelings towards the pleasure of tasting her life's essence on my tongue from what I might feel towards... what other things may be in store between us in a private room. It is only one thing I know for sure: Miss Grey's reaction and, yes, intention towards me is very... very flattering. "A private room sounds ideal. It is so easy for the mind to become distracted by lesser diversions." I admit I am still undecided of what I want to happen once we arrive, but perhaps, in the moment, I shall gain the necessary clarity. Or perhaps once I am able to... feed on the hotness of her life's blood, I will feel inspired, as I so often do - for this part of my plans is not in doubt. Oh. It is Wallace, returning so soon after our parting. Once again, I manage to suppress some very un-countess-like giggling at the spontaneity of his suggestion, for it makes perfect sense for him to want to indulge in hashish without much prelude given everything I have heard about the people that enjoy its pleasures regularly. With some delay, my mind realizes that Wallace's somewhat odd return may have good reasons after all, and perhaps none so amusing. He mentions a vision and insists that a harmless diversion is imperative, and in a manner far too intense to be considered light joking. Has he foreseen some sort of unfortunate future? It would seem so, and even though the mention of the taste of strawberry would be thought of as odd, he seems to be making an effort to provide a reason for others to follow his advise, as I implied he should do earlier. I suppress a sigh at the sight of Miss Grey and her continued apparent desire to... please, please me in particular, at the promise of her blood pulsing so sweetly through her veins just beneath her skin. I suppose it can wait, at least for a little while. I turn and beam at Wallace. "One should not always believe another when they say a matter is imperative, but I find it hard for me to doubt it when you put it so eloquently and what you offer promises such fine diversion." Besides, finally indulging in hashish - of which I have heard much, but previously could not afford - is an exploration of the privileges of my new role I am more certain about compared to... earlier thoughts of experimentation. Taking that offer for XP. I turn back to Miss Grey and, on an impulse, lightly brush over her wrist. "Miss Grey - oh, may I inquire as to your first name? You simply must join us, I would hate to have you vanish before we could properly converse with each other, especially since I am afraid I shall soon leave Paris. Wallace here - pardon, Mr. Gage will no doubt also prove good company." <nilPhone> Iuliana Turn On Alice Grey <nilPhone> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> nilPhone, 8+2 = 10 No mechanical effect. No sooner have I said this are we joined by yet another person, and to think that a minute ago, it seemed as if me and Miss Grey should leave the noise and attention of the ballroom behind. Perhaps there are some disadvantages to being as entrancing as many now seem to consider me. It is Miss Vandervliet, another one of the Express' passengers, and a most peculiar one as well. She ascribes supernatural powers to herself as well, though she does not give them as freely as Wallace, instead preferring private seances. It was after such a seance that I encountered one of her 'clients', a rather disturbed young man with quite a temperament, as I was about to see. It seemed as if the seance went poorly, for the young man was in such a state that his eyes seemed to be alight and those in his path avoided him, though I merely watched him with interest. When he vanished into his quarters, I thought the matter was settled, but after only a short while, he came storming back out, heading back the way towards Miss Vandervliet - only now he held his hand in such a manner that it was clear to me his was hiding something under his clothes. To make matters short, I caught up to the young man and stopped him on the threshold to Miss Vandervliet's quarters and engaged him in meaningless conversation. This seemed to eventually calm him and the fire vanished from his eyes and soon, I gently guided him back to his room. I do not know who he was planning to turn the revolver he tried to hide on - either Miss Vandervliet or himself, but it was a good thing I only saw its glint after the danger was past or I may not have acquitted myself so well. Miss Vandervliet saw the whole thing, of course, though we did not truly discuss it before going our separate ways. And now here she is, apparently drawn by our small gathering, or perhaps the promise of hashish carries on the air without the need for sound. She wants to be introduced, and my first thought is that it is appropriate for the man to make the introductions. But I am a countess and in truth, I feel little desire to subjugate myself to another man unless it is required. Besides, I feel an odd sense of... possessiveness, or, no, protectiveness towards Miss Grey. It was me that first engaged her, after all, and it is me she feels so positively inclined towards. Perhaps that is why I step right next to her, as if wanting to present her. "Miss Vandervliet, this is Miss Grey. Miss Vandervliet is a fellow traveller and she is making quite the name for herself. Though not all her admirers are of the same kind as your benefactor..." I pull a little on Miss Grey's scarf and smile. "... I have no doubt there are some that would want her to stay in Paris for a while longer." <nilPhone> Iuliana Turn On Helena <nilPhone> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> nilPhone, 8+2 = 10 No mechanical effect. "Miss Grey is a recent acquaintance of mine and we were just about to discuss Paris, fashion, all that." I incline my head towards her. "Of course that can wait." My tongue brushes against my teeth, again, though I only notice I am doing it after the fact. "It can wait for a little while." nil. fucked around with this message at 18:15 on Feb 15, 2016 |
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Feb 11, 2016 15:43
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Hot -1 | Cold 1 | Vol -1| Dark 2 Exp 0/5 | Harm 0/4 | Conditions: Terrified I drift over towards the nearest drinks table between me and the Princess and her party, watching the spirit out of the corner of my eye while I make to be sipping some wine and looking at prospective dancing partners. Until, that is, it goes wrong. She noticed it?! How! That should be impossible, unless - no, I have no time to think. A pain is jolting through me, but I must be strong. If she knows, somehow, impossibly, I can’t show it. Can’t let her know it was me. I clamp my jaw together hard, and catch myself on the table, preventing my body from doing anything but swaying slightly, and eventually the pain passes. I can see in the reflection of my glass that my face is white, but my naturally pale complexion will hopefully conceal this. But I need to get out of here, have time to think. <godfist> !r 2d6+1 <Krysmbot> godfist, 6+1 = 7 Taking the condition Terrified, asking How did she know it was there? To leave immediately might be suspicious, but I can see someone from the train, talking with some ladies, and drifting towards one of the doors, a perfect cover. I move to attach myself to their group. “Mister Gage, Countess Iuliana, we’ve met on the train.” I give them as winning a smile as I can manage right now. “I don’t believe I’ve met your companion yet?”
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Feb 15, 2016 10:48
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Hot +2 | Cold +1 | Volatile -1 | Dark -1 XP: 4/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Doomed Location: Hotel Ballroom Yet another lady joins our ever expanding circle and I cannot help but notice with some amusement that the odd man out is marked by that very thing, though more so by being a man than being odd. Could it perhaps be that it is Wallace himself that is causing this gathering of young women - he certainly has the somewhat dark charm of one who flirts with both melancholy and intensity, for those that prefer their men like that. And, as he told me himself, he is a bachelor - in a manner of speaking, even a widower, which, I have found, makes men far more desirable to women than the same condition makes women desirable to men. My mind does not truly and seriously considers these observations as being truthful, more like an amusing anecdote - but at the last thought of Wallace admitting to me his bereavement, my amusement vanishes. I should not make light of this, especially as I am not certain whether he has told this to others. If he has told no one else, it would make it all the more heartbreaking. Instead of further pursuing these thoughts, I turn towards our newcomer. Ah, Miss Grenville, another colourful character, though perhaps not as obviously so as many others. "Miss Grenville, a pleasure." I extend my hand in just such a manner that if she wished to take it, she could but if she were not to, the gesture would simply me taking notice of her and neither of us would look like a fool. "My companion-" The phrase seem correct to me and perhaps simply to make it clear whose companion Miss Grey is, my other hand lightly tugs on the end of her scarf. "-is Miss Grey, a name belying her sense of fashion. Though there is of course no mistaking that you posses a well-developed sense about such things as well - is that satin?" I reach out as if to take hold of Ophelia's garment in question, though I of course do not do so, instead I withdraw my hand as if I had come to my senses - and now have to actually lightly laugh at my own spontaneity. At the freedom my new role allows me, at what is permitted, no, even expected. <nilPhone> Iuliana Turn On Ophelia <nilPhone> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> nilPhone, 10+2 = 12 No mechanical effect. But it is true that we are quite a larger gathering than we were just a little while ago - and while it may be traditional for the man to take charge in such matters, I fancy that Wallace may appreciate some assistance in managing the situation. I seek out his eyes and with my look, try to let him know that if he wants to keep our circle small, I can be the one to make the necessary excuses. nil. fucked around with this message at 18:18 on Feb 15, 2016 |
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Feb 15, 2016 15:44
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Hot -1 Cold -1 Volatile +1 Dark +2 Harm 0/4 XP 2/5 Conditions: Undiplomatic Aspect: The Mother Location: Hotel Ballroom Oh. Well, this has gotten crowded, you think. Is the scent on the air? At the moment of an exotic delight, do the women flock, even those who are, at best, casual acquaintances? Miss Grenville is a practitioner of folk magic, and a thief to boot. Not someone you necessarily want rooting about your rooms while dreaming distantly of cosmic shores and starry wisdom. One must be polite, as no doubt she'd deny that you saw anything, but still, she's someone you hold at arm's length for insurance. Miss Vandervielt, on the other hand, you could had sworn, regarded you as at best a pest and annoyance, and at worst a fraud and threat to her business. What could she possibly want? Thankfully, all your mental interiority is passed over by the Countess' sense of decorum, her timing and decorum impeccable. "Ah, yes, ladies, how lovely to see you all again. This is such a lovely party, is it not? I'm sure you and Miss Grey will become fast friends. Such a shame she is remaining here in Paris, while the rest of us carry on." Still, if the necessity is to keep the Countess well within the bounds of humanity, then keeping her surrounded by others--by friends?--is, perhaps, the safest course. And if they are enemies, then best they remain where you can see them. But given the company, it may be in your best interest to remain completely sober during the proceedings. Alas, the trades we make to protect others, the parts of ourselves we give away, the burdens we take on. You return her glance with a slight nod and a smile. "We were just about to take a trip upstairs, the three of us, to sample one of the mysteries of the East. Unlike the cocaine or alcohol available from your druggist, this particular herb is said to be quite the delight, an experience not to be missed. I would be honored if you would join us."
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Feb 16, 2016 05:23
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Hot +2 | Cold +1 | Volatile -1 | Dark -1 XP: 4/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Doomed Location: Hotel Ballroom => Den of Dank Delights Wallace invites everyone gathered to join us in sampling the substance which has by now taken on mystical and enticing aspects from all its praise. Whether Wallace's decisions to not limit the circle is based on some manner of politeness - which may either be the nature of a good host or the nature of a man that does not wish to disappoint others - based on the fact that he will entertain a fine selection of, as far as I know, unattached young women or based on some other reason, I do not know. By way of smiles and gestures, I get our little gathering going, a subtly complex act as Wallace needs to lead the way physically with me doing the same, in my small part, socially. We make our way up some stairs of the marvellous hotel and I have to again remind myself not to be amazed by its splendour, its excess, for no doubt a true countess would have seen better, might even think it common. I keep Miss Grey close by, she might feel somewhat intimidated by the onslaught of people joining our circle, when she originally only wanted to... converse with me, in private. In any case, I will stay close and attempt to center her as best as I can, it is the least I can do. My mind wanders and I idly consider the mention of cocaine - I remember it being proscribed by physicians for my former employers' toothaches. You would think that I may be ailed by aching teeth, given the recent changes to them, the... fangs able to change themselves from being hidden to being ready to strike, but in truth, my teeth are more healthy, cleaner, whiter, stronger than ever. So it is with every part of my body, and it is without arrogance that I am able to say that my skin is flawless - a pale, spotless alabaster that people of noble birth would like to think is their birthright. I suppose they have to make do with expensive clothes and 'noble' bearing. And here we are: The room seems small after the expansiveness of the ballroom, but in truth, it would be large enough to accommodate our group twice over. There is a large mirror on the wall, a view of dark Paris though the large window, and most importantly, a couch, a chaise longue and a few chairs. We all take our places - I of course keep Miss Grey close, as mentioned - and watch Wallace explain the proceedings. Hashish is a kind of tobacco, or used as such, though a specialized pipe is apparently favoured. I wonder whether the cigarette he gave me is of the same stuff? Wallace lights the pipe, though passes it on right away without taking a draught himself, which does cause me to take note. I will have to observe whether he continues to do so and perhaps explain to him how others may interpret his actions - gently, of course. The smell of the pipe is quite pleasant, different enough from the smell of a gentlemen's smoking room. The pipe is handed to me and before I indulge, I cannot help but address our gathering, it seems quite appropriate for someone like me to do. I hold up the pipe, as if toasting to the others. "To the mysteries of the east - may our minds travel ahead of us on smoke wings before the rest of our body will soon follow, on the Orient express." And with that, I inhale from the pipe, keep the smoke inside for a bit as I think is proper. It is true, this is quite pleasing, quite relaxing. I lean back against the back of the couch, exhaling the smoke and looking at Miss Grey's scarf - I would like to remove it, inspect the skin below. But I suppose it can wait... a little while, as I am feeling quite content right this moment. I pass on the pipe. "Speaking of our travels together, I admit I am curious what brought each of you to take on the voyage. It is no ordinary journey and no ordinary destination, after all, and, if I might say so, perhaps we the travellers are not all of ordinary stock either." I smile. Internally, I wonder whether the last remark was supposed to be in reference to my supposed noble lineage - and if it was if I am to commend myself for my good impersonation or fear that the arrogance of those of privilege will slowly no longer become an act for me. But these thoughts are for later, my audience needs me. "What brought you to be on the Orient Express then? I know some people often imagine their own affairs would be of no interest to others, but I doubt it is so in this circle." Temptation: Your suggestions carry a preternatural power. When you convince someone to do something, they carry 1 forward to doing it, and if they succeed choose one: mark experience/gain a String on them. Temptation: Tell Iuliana about the purpose/reason for travelling on the Orient Express. I smile and lightly brush against Miss Grey's shoulder. "Miss Grey, I am of course also interested in what it is that brought you to Paris. In fact, as our time together is so short, you must tell me as much as possible." <nilPhone> Iuliana Turn On Alice Grey <nilPhone> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> nilPhone, 12+2 = 14 No mechanical effect. nil. fucked around with this message at 12:42 on Feb 18, 2016 |
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Feb 17, 2016 15:25
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Hot -1 Cold -1 Volatile +1 Dark +2 Harm 0/4 XP 2/5 Conditions: Undiplomatic Aspect: The Mother Location: Wallace's Rooms You would not have booked these particular rooms, if you'd had your choice, but then, this entire trip is only barely your choice. They are large, expansive, cavernous, with none of the dark intimacy of the family estate. Say what one will about the dark moors and the cold stone cities of Scotland, at least things are close and there is always a warm fire nearby. These rooms, there is too much show, too much that is gilded and ornate, too much disguise and artifice in the construction. You will be happy to leave them. But it does have sufficient seating, so there are small mercies. After excusing yourself for a moment to change into a smoking jacket, you return with a long stemmed pipe and pack of matches. The tablet is large, and ought to last the group. One could chew it, your brother said, but it would work smoked also. You haven't got a lifetime's supply, but it should last the evening, at least. The pipe is packed, and with a few minor puffs, you get it started, foregoing any deep lungfuls, as per your plan. The Countess handles it like a professional, inhaling and exhaling the smoke like a dragon from some mythological tale. And just like a dragon, she continues to eye Miss Grey avariciously, despite her relaxed posture. You accept the pipe when she hands it back, and offer it to the others in the room. "Whose next? Ladies first is only polite. Please decide quick, we don't want the flame to go out." Temptation: Your suggestions carry a preternatural power. When you convince someone to do something, they carry 1 forward to doing it, and if they succeed choose one: mark experience/gain a String on them. Temptation: 
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Feb 18, 2016 05:55
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Scene 1 Cont Ophelia: It is obvious is it not surely? The answer comes to you in a flash as you inhale the herbs of the distant Orient. The Princess is trained equipped and prepared. She has obviously received some schooling in arts both mystical and mundane. Now why she would deem such training necessary or how one of exalted birth would obtain knowledges is beyond you. Is this the first time you've encountered another serious practitioner of the occult arts? Do you know if the Princess could recognise you as the source of the intrusive spirit? Iuliana: You watch as she shivers with excitement at your touch and then eyes the others in the room as if she wishes they would vanish leaving the two of you alone. Before closing her eyes and speaking "Vienna always blasted Vienna. My pig of a fiancée thought he could enjoy the conjugal bonds of marriage as when he chose yet had not the slightest intention of fulfilling his vows. I shall not miss him and he is free to take solace in his whores. I hope he captures the pox from them." She smiles and inhales the fumes from the pipe "but enough of the past " she giggles as she stands somewhat unsteadily and reaches for a glass and a bottle to fill it "A toast to the future and whomever it may bring." she says while her eyes feast upon you almost as hungrily as yours feast upon her. Do you have an excuse to make to get the two of you somewhat more private? Who do you think likely to object? Wallace: Ah it looks like your import from far Araby is popular indeed. Where did your brother say he procured such a strange herb anyway? You can see the fate of Miss Grey etched upon her face bloody and bruised and lying as if dead. Have you ever successfully defied the fates you have seen or do they always come true no matter what you have done? Helena: Well it seems Wallace has depths you did not suspect and has quite the array of ladies hanging off his arm. You are taken aback by the beauty of the Countess. Is she a rival in your contest for Wallace's attention? You have had a short shrift with rivals in the past haven't you? What did you did you do with Madam Zenia's assistance of course to the last rival to cross your path? Siobahn: "Why I will not be lectured like this by some Irish peasant." he says clutching a handkerchief with a few spots of blood spattering it's pristine whiteness to his cheek. He turns to his erstwhile dance partner "come my dear let us go where we will not have to contend with our lessers" and storms off with a parting shot "you shall not hear the last of this." Well that's that over with. Does his threat scare you at all? Does confronting the fat fool make you feel better or only spur you on to more daring feats of confrontation?
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Feb 20, 2016 23:37
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Hot +2 | Cold +1 | Volatile -1 | Dark -1 XP: 4/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Doomed Location: Wallace's Rooms I have to suppress making my pleasure at Miss Grey's, hm, adoration of me too obvious, something I find a bit of a challenge. Perhaps it is this hashish from Wallace? In any case, it would seem as if another soul today tells me of their woes, and once again, my heart goes out to them. I would not call myself an overly sentimental woman and I realize that in both my old life and my new, I should not give my sympathy too freely, lest I lose sight of my own lot - but Miss Grey's woes are once again something close to my heart. Or perhaps close to the heart that beat in me when I was still a servant, but, although my nature may have changed, my heart in truth has not. I have known the faithlessness of men also, but unlike Miss Grey, I did not see if for what it was at the time and thus brought ruin to my ambitions... and other, dearer things as well. I sigh inwardly, then dispel the sudden onset of reminiscence. My concern is for Miss Grey, after all, and besides, I have new ambitions. Miss Grey herself seems to go through much the same thing, the temporary darkening of the mood, though she seems to be in even better spirits than I am. The boldness of her toast finally makes me giggle - though I manage to make it somewhat refined with a hand in front of my mouth - though, in truth it is only partially her words that make it so striking. Her eyes... feast on me with an intensity that in another context would perhaps be frightening, but it mixes with my desire for... the warmth of her life on my lips. And perhaps my desire, or only curiosity towards what else Miss Grey promised, and very clearly did so again with her toast. I realize my lips have parted ever so slightly, my tongue brushing against the edge of my teeth, imaging Miss Grey's scarf finally removed. But, ah, I would have to be alone with her for any of that... I glance over at Wallace. He was the one that organized this gathering, in fact, insisted on it. I do not believe it was only a social occasion, the mention of a vision was deliberate. Did Wallace see some sort of ill fate that would befall me if I were to leave with Miss Grey for whatever it was that privacy would hold for us? After all, that seemed to be the thing that brought about his insistence. I turn my appreciative eyes back towards with Miss Grey - I feel at ease, and I cannot imagine any harm she could do to me. Why, if I look at her, I imagine she'd eat from my hand. Hm. Now there is a thought. Unfamiliar, but somehow... perhaps fitting for who I pretend to be, for who I aim to become, or already have turned into. Decadent. Indulgent. I turn my hand as if holding out something, though of course it holds nothing. Oh, but what if Wallace foresaw some ill fate for Miss Grey instead? I wish he would have said something, though I suppose he may only be trying to put into action my advise from earlier. But we shall see how important the matter is to him, because in truth, I might just decide to take my chances... Miss Grey is so adoring, and within her flows such a sweet nectar. "Well said, Miss Grey." I beam at her, perhaps wider than I normally would. I do feel... unrestrained, and I am not certain whether it is the hashish or the expectation for what is to come. "I admit, while I thought the evening would be enjoyable enough, I imagined it would be far more formal. But to be able to spend time with such good company like this, ah..." I smile, leaning back, my eyes coming to a rest on Miss Grey. After all, the other two ladies in attendance have not really said anything yet. "But time is sometimes such a precious commodity." I stretch out my hand towards Miss Grey. "Miss Grey, you said you wanted me to look at something of yours so that I might give my opinion?" My eyes search her face for her reaction, her delight and anticipation as she understands what I am saying. "Some clothing, or was it jewelry - in your room?" I extend both my hands to the assembled group and look at each of them in turn. "I know it would be terribly rude of me, but I hope you will forgive me. My time together with Miss Grey is limited as we shall soon travel onward, and I admit I do not want to disappoint her in such a matter." I wait for a few seconds before leisurely turning my head towards Wallace. I try to read the expression on his face before continuing with a smile. "Wallace, I believe if someone were to take offense, it would be your obligation as the host." My tone is joking, of course. My limbs are limber and I am not holding my head up high, instead resting it against the couch - I think, however, that this would be permitted under the circumstances. "I joke. I am very glad of this opportunity you have given us, and of course I will be more than happy to rejoin you at a later time, if I can. But..." I arch an eyebrow. "...was there something you wished to discuss before we take our temporary leave? It is the least I can do to make up for my rudeness." I give him a brilliant smile, consciously making sure that my tongue is well hidden - not playing over where I know my fangs are. <nil_> Iuliana Turn On Wallace <nil_> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> nil_, 8+2 = 10 No mechanical effect. nil. fucked around with this message at 09:05 on Feb 24, 2016 |
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Feb 23, 2016 21:11
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Hot:2 Cold: -1 Volatile: -1 Dark: 1 XP: 2/5 Harm: 1/4 Conditions: Clumsy, Doomed Location: Hotel Ballroom I stare angrily as Augustus St. Jermaine runs off into the crowd. Such cowardice, I'm honestly shocked by such an appalling sight! The nobility are supposed to be better than that, at least in theory. Maybe its different in France, but that still does not excuse his behavior. "Coward!", I yell out at him, "running away like a child! Too scared to fight me and Siobahn I see." I turn back to look at Siobahn, my darling, beautiful Siobahn. Unblemished even by the rather unwomanly show of violence. In fact it only enthralls me further, deeper under her spell. A woman who can handle herself like that will surely not be caught off guard in any situation. Its the sign of fine breeding, a good shove it. Shows that your family is strong or something. I think I remember Father saying something like that. Anyways, I turn back to Siobahn and give her hand a chaste kiss. "What an oaf, surprising that people like him were even invited to this party. But let us ignore him and continue our dance, yes?" I grasp her hand and wait for her ,undoubtedly lovely and perfect, response. <Mcclay> !r 2d6+1 <Krysmbot> Mcclay, 9+1 = 10 Mess With Me, Miss With Them: Siobahn gains a string on me, giving Augustus the condition "Coward" mcclay fucked around with this message at 05:03 on Feb 24, 2016 |
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Feb 24, 2016 04:56
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Hot -1 Cold -1 Volatile +1 Dark +2 Harm 0/4 XP 2/5 Conditions: Undiplomatic Aspect: The Mother Location: Wallace's Rooms You remember your brother back from his travels, laughing, tanned, his tie uncharacteristically loose. He knew People now, he said, useful people, who would be of a great help to him in his career, and when you asked what kind of people and for him to tell you where he went and what he did, he just mussed your hair and told you to go play in the yard. He was taller than you, back then. He was kind, in ways, your eldest brother. Not nice and caring, like mother sometimes was, but sometimes attentive to those around him, and even if his kindness was born from a desire to have people leave him alone or get out of his way, it was a species of kindness never the less. He didn't like it when you were sad. It bothered him, he said, to see you sitting there staring, or crying, or laughing at things that weren't there. You tried explaining things, but he wasn't much interested. He had no time for things that weren't here in the present, that you couldn't touch with your hands. Too much thinking was what drove philosophers and poets insane, and even if it made ladies' knees weak, it was better to feign that sort of thing for a while then get back to work, rather than actually feel it. You always saw nothing, when you looked at him. You could see no future, no past, nothing but the present. The world would say nothing about him. When the... incident... occurred, he was pleasant, as usual. He sat with you for a while and talked, mostly about football and something that his friends had done with a policeman's helmet while back in school and about a friend whose mother had died. It was best to forget it, he said. Thinking didn't do a drat lick of good. If you needed help to forget, you drink, like a proper fellow. But if you needed more help, you smoked this. He slipped the wedge into your pocket, and handed you the pipe straight up, explaining it was a gift from a friend, and that it hadn't come cheap. That didn't make sense, but he told you to try it anyways. You didn't, but he kept giving you things anyways. The cigarettes helped, and judging by the smell, they were similar to the hashish. No doubt he'd laugh and laugh, and perhaps make some off color joke, were he to see the scene. This is more women than he'd have ever been alone with in his entire life. It is not that you cannot see his perspective; this would be the sort of thing he and many others dream of. And yet, being there, it is not what they would expect it to be. No doubt they would take your nerves and inability to twist the situation to your advantage as a sign that you don't deserve such things, but then perhaps it is because they would do such things that they do not find themselves in these situations? You cock your head to the side, the tassel of your cap brushing against your cheek, and your lips make a flat smile. "Of course not, I couldn't detain you, if you really must be on your way. Formality, as they say, is in the eye of the beholder, and if you promise to join me again someday, I promise I won't hold it against you." You smile again, to say you really aren't upset. It's hard not to give the Countess what she wants. Part of you wants her to stay, to help you forget... You don't like it, feeling powerless. But that's just it... If you could figure out a way to avoid these premonitions, you would do so, wouldn't you? If they were suggestions, or warnings, rather than promises? But then maybe that's it? You've been too blatant? Maybe it is as the Countess says, that you are too direct, that you need to be subtle, to tug strings like the spider in her web, rather than tossing horns like the bull in her china shop? You can try. You can always try, and if you fail, well... "Do stay safe, ladies. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, eh old girl? No strong drink after this stuff, or you're liable to go tumbling down the stairs and end up in hospital for days, blood everywhere. Pardon my mentioning it, but it happened to my brother's pal, and the fellows at the club now all call him Snuffy on account of the sound his nose makes. Never looked the same afterwards. A little nip if you need a nightcap, but nothing excessive. I'd feel awful if one of you were hurt. I know we're all tough and healthy, but it hits you harder than you think, I promise." Toph Bei Fong fucked around with this message at 05:38 on Feb 24, 2016 |
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Feb 24, 2016 05:35
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Hot: +1x | Cold: -1 | Vol: +2x | Dark: -1 XP: 2/5 | Harm: 0/4 | Conditions: Unpatriotic, Possessive Location: Hotel Ballroom That crack about my ancestry and station earns this stuck-up gently caress Augustus St. Germaine an audible growl, both hands balled into fists and ready to go if he's dumb enough to say anything else like that. Noble or not, audience or not, I don't care - no one makes fun of my family or me and gets away with it. If he wasn't such a coward I'd get my chance, too. Instead he waddles off, dance partner in tow, promising vengeance that I greet with a loud scoffing noise. Bring it on you stuck up ponce. At least I'm not the only one that finds his behavior ridiculous and pathetic. Sucks that the person that agrees with me is David though. Smirking when he calls the retreating rotundity a coward, I'm definitely glancing off as the noble I punched parts the dance floor - that's the ONLY reason David manages to kiss my hand. Again. This drat French wine I've had, I've seriously abandoned a core conviction that he's not getting punched as well. Do I dance, or do I go? I, uh... Stepping closer to David suddenly, I'm going see how this goes. All things considered, he's earned that much at least. "Bet that sorted him out, doubt he troubles me again." Definitely smirking at that, since why wouldn't I? Didn't you see the look on his face? Pressed against David since the music's painfully slow and he's now leading our dance, it's actually weird for me to realize he's taller than I am. I'd just sort of assumed... whatever. I hate that I'm enjoying this in any way, so I think I'm going to make this my last dance with him. "Last dance, soldier boy." Until it ends though I'm going to enjoy the physical nature of the ordeal, the press of my body against his through a few layers of fabric, and should be able to chalk it up to the champagne. <Rauri> might as well throw it in, Turn on David <Rauri> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> Rauri, 6+2 = 8 <Rauri> !r 2d6+1 <Krysmbot> Rauri, 6+1 = 7 <Rauri> scent of blood + condition really, really helped out there What is he gonna do to try and get revenge on me? Scary and confusing of course. This didn't end up fitting the fiction I wrote, ignore it please. Just including it since I rolled it.
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Feb 24, 2016 09:19
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Hot: -1 Cold: -1 Volatile: +1 Dark: +2 XP: 1/5 Harm: 0/4 Conditions: Location: the Chamber of Kush Revenge on a slight is, more often than not, a social matter. In my line of work, it's rather easy to find a point of vulnerability and exploit it; more often than not, a simple indiscreet whisper to the wrong person suffices, and usually without a hint that it was I who may have insinuated one crass society lady's secrets to another. On the occasions when this has not sufficed, or a situation has devolved into the physical... I usually allow Madame Zenia to take control and wield what gifts she gives me. These hands can leave marks, now. I do not care for it, but one must do what one must. Right now, though, I have no desire to redress grievances, for in the sweet-smelling smoke of Wallace's rooms, it is strangely hard to focus. I find myself ever so slightly nervous -- there is the sense of a lurking phantasm, of incorrect angles, that I cannot precisely place -- but surely the blame does not lie on my companions? Miss Gray is pleasant enough, if possessing eyes only for the Countess... and who can blame her? She has Wallace wrapped around her finger, in his rather distant way, but she is very alluring. I cannot bring myself to be truly angry at her, but... But perhaps it would be of use either way to employ Madame Zenia to better understand her. If she is to be my enemy, it is best to know a vulnerability to exploit, and if... perhaps, if she is not? It would be of value to know what matters to her, most truly. I rouse myself from my smoky reverie and smile. "Well, I do suppose we cannot keep you two, but it is a shame. I am only myself realizing the potential of this evening. Ah, but you are always one step ahead of me, Countess..." I smile in a vague, dissolute sort of way, feigning more intoxication, and try to look deeply into her eyes before my focus shifts back to the unnatural sensibility of the room. One may not hold the Countess here, or Miss Grey, but perhaps I can understand her better before she goes. Giving a string to the Dark Power, recorded on the String Sheet, to use the Uncanny Voices bargain: "You can give the dark power a String in order to realize a secret about someone you’re talking to. The owner of that character will reveal one of their secret fears, secret desires, or secret strengths (they choose)." LAY A SECRET ON ME, NIL
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Feb 25, 2016 11:29
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Hot:2 Cold: -1 Volatile: -1 Dark: 1 XP: 2/5 Harm: 1/4 Conditions: Clumsy, Doomed Location: Hotel Ballroom Siobhan being so close to me conjures up some rather...impertinent thoughts. I am not a wanton man, I like to think I keep myself close to the lofty standard that being one of Her Majesty's soldiers entails. But I have to admit that as Siobhan presses up against me my mind goes to places rather unclean. Thankfully the dance is slow and somewhat relaxing, anything too fast and heated and I might make a fool of myself. Even so its with great effort that I keep my face clear of all sign that my thoughts are anything less than pure. Siobhan is too delicate, too fragile for that kind of thinking. Underneath her angry and blustery exterior she has the heart of a dove, I know it. "If we must part so soon then so be it. I hope to see you later on the train. There will be plenty of time to get to know each other." As the dance draws to a close we part, my hand lingering on hers. Before we can fully part I lean in close and give her a small kiss on the cheek. Then I quickly retreat, hoping that she thinks my blush is just the light hitting my face. With luck I'm out of the way of her fists, finding safety near the refreshments table. Promising myself to Siobhan <Mcclay> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> Mcclay, 9+2 = 11 <Mcclay> Turned Siobhan the gently caress on Taking a string on Siobhan
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Feb 26, 2016 03:43
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Hot +2 | Cold +1 | Volatile -1 | Dark -1 XP: 4/5 Harm 0/4 Conditions: Doomed Location: Wallace's Rooms Wallace seems to take my announcement of planning to leave with Miss Grey well, or at the very least he does not take offense, from what I can tell. However, there is a certain... sense of either resignation or acceptance in his voice, in his manner, though whether it is because of the hashish or something else I cannot say. I may not know him well enough yet, but if I had to wager I would say Wallace has the temperament of a man prone to turning his energies inward more often than outward in the face of difficulties. Though what difficulties those may be in this instance, I cannot imagine. Whatever the case may be, he does not seem to consider his vision serious enough to try to detain me and Miss Grey, if indeed a genuine vision it was that made him insist on this gathering. "Of course I will join you again, Wallace." I smile and make as if to wave his remark away. "Even without my promise, I would still seek all of you out for more of our fine company, but you shall still have my promise." I hold my smile, and half expect that this should be enough, but Wallace continues talking. It is odd, the thread of his speech seems to grow somewhat... disorganized, though I suppose it may simply be his way. Initially, I cannot discern what tales of youthful boyish misadventures have to do with our current situation, until suddenly, my mind starts to suddenly arrive at a thought - as if having listened to a poem without truly understanding it because you were too busy trying to follow the words and only after, your mind was able to guess at what was being said behind the words. Two things Wallace said stick with me: Blood and calls for moderation in drinking. My smile holds, but by now it takes a conscious effort. Could it be...? Has Wallace guessed at my nature, either through supernatural insight or some other means? No, no, it cannot be. If it were the case, he would not simply let me be, would he? A sudden fear grips my heart, nourished by the knowledge that what little true power I hold is not enough to protect me should I be found out by those that would do what I have become harm. No, the only proper protection I have is more... ephemeral, a power of illusion and assumption, and perhaps the power of others being well-inclined towards me. But in my fear I cannot help but know that those powers could vanish from one day to the next, with but one small mistake - and then what would I be left with? Who would I be? I look around me, see the Wallace's eyes on me, Miss Grey's as well, and I truly look at them. It calms me immeasurably for in them, I cannot see any suspicion. The only thing they see is a Countess, beautiful and confident. And that is what I shall be, for their sake and mine. With a renewed vigor, I stand up and extend my hand towards Miss Grey, signalling that we shall depart. It is at this point that Miss Vandervliet addresses us, or, to be more precise, addresses me and for a moment I cannot help but wonder why it is that people always seem to pick precisely the moment when I am about to leave to indulge in... what it is that Miss Grey will be able to provide to talk with me? But I should not let my slightest of irritations show, it is bad behavior and, besides, I am confident I can quickly make a positive impression on Miss Vandervliet and then be on my way. Now what is this about me being one step ahead of her? Is this concerning the incident involving the young, disturbed man and his revolver? "Miss Vandervliet, being ahead is often a matter of perspective. For if you move in a direction you only think is the right one, the one that didn't move at all is the one ahead." I smile, which turns into a grin, then another giggle behind a hand. "I must apologize and beg you not to pay this any mind. Were it not for Wallace's delightful hashish, I am certain I would not." I refocus on Miss Vandervliet and hold out my hand ever so slightly at my side - a gesture that normally would make others think one feeble-minded but seems to be accepted in those expected to make sudden proclamations: actors, poets, countesses. "In any case, wherever my steps should take me, forward or backwards or somewhere else entirely, I shall return so that we may talk more." I incline my head, smile, twist my hand in the slightest of way making the suggestion of a curtsy without actually moving the rest of my body. <nil_> Iuliana Turn On Helena <nil_> !r 2d6+2 <Krysmbot> nil_, 7+2 = 9 Promise/symbolic string/give self? I notice her looking deeply in my eyes and suddenly, I have to ask myself whether what she sees in me is the same thing Miss Grey sees in me, a notion that I might not as readily entertained before today. My mind so distracted, it seems that I lose myself in her eyes, feel myself pulled in by them and in an instant, a darkness descends upon my heart, as if out of nowhere. The darkness is that of a painful memory, or rather the bruises on my heart left by that memory - why it is that I am thinking of this now I cannot imagine, as it seems entirely disconnected from Miss Vandervliet. No, it must have been the thoughts from earlier that are bringing on this melancholy, this hidden fear of helplessness and memories of... servitude more complete than I ever knew under the noble lords and ladies I used to work for. Helena, you see Iuliana surrounded by darkness, clad in a simple but clean white dress. Her chin is on her chest, her shoulders are slumped and she does not seem to be moving, does in fact not seem to have a life of her own. Then, slowly, far in the distance, you can see something coming from out of the darkness, something as large as a mountain, some coiling beast which you can only get glimpses of. With the certainty of a dream, you know it is a great dragon, blood-red in scale but always bathed in shadows. It whispers inaudible commands, and Iuliana finally moves, with all the lack of grace of a puppeteer's instrument. She seems to perform some simple commands then simply freezes and remains as she is as the beast turns away from her. You get the impression that time passes, with Iuliana compelled to wait for the dragon's commands, though no further ones ever come. Then, like distant thunder, you see the dragon struggling, roaring, caught in some unseen battle until finally, it falls silent and it's blood-red light fades. Once it does, you see Iuliana unfreeze and the glint of thinking return to her eyes. Her face is a mixture of confusion, fear - and something like anger and determination. You know that she fears that she could fall under the dragon's spell again, if it still lives, or come under the thrall of something else like it. You have enough awareness of being in a vision to know that the dragon is not literal, yet also that there is a certain logic to it being one. nil. fucked around with this message at 11:49 on Mar 4, 2016 |
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Feb 26, 2016 21:06
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