RPG: The Seven Kingdoms - Game Thread

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    • RPG: The Seven Kingdoms - Game Thread

      Jack West, Jr.
      In support of a current research project, you have found it necessary to visit your alma mater, Trinity College, to consult some obscure inscriptions on several Sumerian clay tablets held in the college's special collections. Being between terms, the college, and the libraries, are quieter than usual, which suits you quite well.

      You've been on campus for a few days and your research is going well. You've just had lunch, and are on your way back to continue your work, when you are approached by a tweedy sort of man who looks vaguely familiar. You realise that he was a student around the same time you were, just as he comes up and greets you heartily.

      "West, it is you, isn't it? Haven't seen you in ages. What a godsend you are, just the chap I need to talk to."

      As he rambles on about his latest dig and what he'll be teaching for the term that will soon begin, your mind wanders. You divide your attention between trying to remember his name, deciding when it will be polite to get away from him, and thinking about the distinct possibility that the cunieform inscription you were examining earlier today has been mistranslated. You absently register that he's been part of the excavation team at the Blackfriary site in County Meath and that he's becoming rather agitated about something. Suddenly you realise he's asking you a question with some urgency.

      "So you will run up to Blackfriary with me, West? Just for a day or two? They've sprung this do on me, some visiting delegation that wants special attention and a fancy show. Money chaps, very important. I can't do it all myself, and you do have rather a reputation. Excitement, you know. There's hardly anyone around right now. I know it's a lot to ask, but the College's reputation is on the line, and when the Classical Studies Master said he'd seen you about, well, I knew you were the best man for it."


      Lucas Hansen
      It's been a long shift at the Silver Swan, but at least it has been entertaining. In addition to the usual crowd whose knowledge of matters medieval is limited to films about King Arthur (especially the one with Nicol Williamson as Merlin) and Robin Hood (the one starring Patrick Bergin, of course), and Game of Thrones (which they read years before the TV series came out), there have actually been a few customers who seem to know their medieval history and literature. Indeed, you've been having a delightfully witty - and appropriately earthy - conversation about the early English play Gammer Gurton's Needle with one of them, in between doing the flashy bartender gig upon request. So delightful (and so earthy) in fact, that you've been wondering whether there might be a way of running into this particular patron again.

      As you hand your charming conversational partner another mug of Harp ale, you are pleased to discover you're not the only one who's been wondering this. "Say, Lucas - there's a renaissance fair this weekend at Tryon Park - I'm going with a few friends... I don't suppose you'd be interested in coming along with us?"


      Elliott Hunter
      You've been working hard for weeks, now, on a rather tricky piece of infiltration and information "liberation." The target's security set-up was very good. Your client is very happy. And you have enough money to pay the rent for quite a few months. And to get away for a while. Long hours at your computer, plus some crazy nights at the crapfood emporium you work at to explain where the money people see you using comes from, have made you feel crabby and itchy inside, as if every muscle in your body wants to be stretched to the edge.

      Time for a good hard climb. The only question is, where? You've tried most of the routes at your skill level in southern California, and a few places in nearby states as well. You've got enough money to do a bit of travelling, if you're careful. And you are really going stir-crazy here in the city.

      Eagerly you plan your trip.


      Ivy Birenbaum
      Your architectural firm has won the contract to design a tourist and research complex, including a museum and state-of-the-art lab facilities, associated with a major archeological excavation site in Spain, in the foothills of the Pyrenees, north of Barcelona. The site has uncovered significant portions of a long-deserted early medieval Spanish town. Your company's winning designs - which you were instrumental in developing - have been approved by all the appropriate governmental authorities, and as senior architect on the project (and the most senior member of the firm who is fluent in Spanish) you have been asked to fly to Barcelona and follow up on the initial local contacts made during your research at the bidding stage.

      After a week of negotiations with local firms, you decide you need some down time. In fact, you had planned for this, as you have been looking forward to being able to spend some of your time hiking in the mountains near the excavation site ever since your first visits.

      Feeling quite pleased with your progress to date, you make plans for your hiking trip.
      And now I'll tell you what's against us, an art that's lived for centuries. Go through the years and you will find what's blackened all of history. Against us is the law with its immensity of strength and power - against us is the law! Police know how to make a man a guilty or an innocent. Against us is the power of police! The shameless lies that men have told will ever more be paid in gold - against us is the power of the gold! Against us is racial hatred and the simple fact that we are poor.
      - The Ballad of Sacco and Vanzetti, Joan Baez

      The post was edited 2 times, last by Meherrin ().

    • Having long hungered to see the beech wood forest of Navarre, Ivy packs a light backpack with a ground cloth, change of clothes and purchases a bus pass to Orbaiceta gateway to La Selva De Irati.



      Note:Any posts made by this poster should always be construed in the most innocent angelic way possible. The poster is not responsible for where your depraved minds go, if you have a depraved mind.








      || This area intentionally left blank. ||
      Our Lady of Croppers
      ~Semper DOS~ ~Viva Toons~
      The two most common elements in the universe are hydrogen and stupidity ~ Harlan Ellison
    • Meherrin wrote:

      Lucas Hansen

      (OOC: I'm impressed that you actually went ahead and looked up an actual NYC park for your bit :p)

      Lucas frowns, but suppresses it quickly. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline," he responds, with a sidelong glance towards his fellow barman, well within hearing range. Significant glances don't carry so well in dimly lit places, such as a poor recreation of a Medieval inn, but it's worth a try. "It's strictly forbidden for staff to fraternize with patrons in this manner."

      But, he leans in as he nonchalantly pours just the right amount of whisky into a shaker, and says more quietly, "however, if there were a spatio-temporal location at which one might expect to be meet up, this would not be unwelcome."

      With that, he cracks an egg open, dumping its contents into the shaker with a grimace. Eggs are gross. But people insist on these odd beverages.

      odinloki_us wrote:

      Looking at that account stats, either you don't know how to play, or you've decided to see how bad an account you can make..?
    • Flossie Schmumpus wrote:

      Having long hungered to see the beech wood forest of Navarre, Ivy packs a light backpack with a ground cloth, change of clothes and purchases a bus pass to Orbaiceta gateway to La Selva De Irati.


      Ivy
      It's almost a five hour bus ride from Barcelona to Orbaiceta, but you are happy to relax and enjoy the scenery. From your window, you can look north and see the peaks of the Pyrenees, their lower reaches covered in forests. It's late afternoon when you arrive, so you decide to do a bit of touristing before setting out early in the morning. You check into a modest hostel not far from the start of the Irati River trail, and wander around the area for a while, before heading back to the hostel for supper and an early night.

      You wake up at dawn, refreshed and excited. Shouldering your pack, you set out. The River Trail, which leads northwest toward Lake Irabia, is a well-marked and fairly easy hike, but you don't mind easing into your adventure, and the scenery is beautiful.

      It's almost noon by the time you reach the lower end of the lake, and you're ready to strike out on your own. You make a last check of your supplies, going through your mental checklist to be certain you have everything you need for a few days in the woods. Looking northeast toward Mount Orhy for your bearing, you leave the trail behind and embrace the majesty of the beeches.

      (OOC: please list everything you are carrying with you into the woods.)



      The Burninator wrote:

      (OOC: I'm impressed that you actually went ahead and looked up an actual NYC park for your bit :p)

      Lucas frowns, but suppresses it quickly. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline," he responds, with a sidelong glance towards his fellow barman, well within hearing range. Significant glances don't carry so well in dimly lit places, such as a poor recreation of a Medieval inn, but it's worth a try. "It's strictly forbidden for staff to fraternize with patrons in this manner."

      But, he leans in as he nonchalantly pours just the right amount of whisky into a shaker, and says more quietly, "however, if there were a spatio-temporal location at which one might expect to be meet up, this would not be unwelcome."

      With that, he cracks an egg open, dumping its contents into the shaker with a grimace. Eggs are gross. But people insist on these odd beverages.


      Lucas

      The reply comes quickly. "Oh, what a shame. We had a whole day planned. Early brunch on Saturday at The Cloisters Grill, around 10 in the morning, and then a stroll through the grounds to the faire site. What a pity you won't be able to join us. It could have been fun. Well, I think I'll be moving on. Maybe I'll catch you here again sometime?" Pushing away from the bar with the slightest of winks in your direction, the object of your interest turns away and heads for the door.
      And now I'll tell you what's against us, an art that's lived for centuries. Go through the years and you will find what's blackened all of history. Against us is the law with its immensity of strength and power - against us is the law! Police know how to make a man a guilty or an innocent. Against us is the power of police! The shameless lies that men have told will ever more be paid in gold - against us is the power of the gold! Against us is racial hatred and the simple fact that we are poor.
      - The Ballad of Sacco and Vanzetti, Joan Baez

      The post was edited 1 time, last by Meherrin ().

    • OCC: What time of year is it?
      Note:Any posts made by this poster should always be construed in the most innocent angelic way possible. The poster is not responsible for where your depraved minds go, if you have a depraved mind.








      || This area intentionally left blank. ||
      Our Lady of Croppers
      ~Semper DOS~ ~Viva Toons~
      The two most common elements in the universe are hydrogen and stupidity ~ Harlan Ellison
    • Flossie Schmumpus wrote:

      OCC: What time of year is it?


      OOC: Late summer - around the end of August. Everyone can assume that the weather where they are now is warm and relatively dry.
      And now I'll tell you what's against us, an art that's lived for centuries. Go through the years and you will find what's blackened all of history. Against us is the law with its immensity of strength and power - against us is the law! Police know how to make a man a guilty or an innocent. Against us is the power of police! The shameless lies that men have told will ever more be paid in gold - against us is the power of the gold! Against us is racial hatred and the simple fact that we are poor.
      - The Ballad of Sacco and Vanzetti, Joan Baez
    • Speaking with a somewhat distant voice, his mind clearly back on his work in Iraq tracing any potential clues to the Hanging Gardens, he dismissed the fellow he could not recall.

      "I'm sorry but I really must decline. I am here only briefly to translate this cuneiform with Max. I trust you recall Professor Epper? We fly together this evening."

      Reminiscing his time with their enigmatic lecturer and how Max had essentially become substitute for his father that he was so estranged from, Jack once again began to walk.

      Jonothan Crane wrote:

      Patients suffering delusional episodes often focus their paranoia on an external tormentor. Usually one conforming to Jungian archetypes. In this case, a scarecrow.
    • Meherrin wrote:

      The reply comes quickly. "Oh, what a shame. We had a whole day planned. Early brunch at The Cloisters Grill, around 10 in the morning, and then a stroll through the grounds to the faire site. What a pity you won't be able to join us. It could have been fun. Well, I think I'll be moving on. Maybe I'll catch you here again sometime?" Pushing away from the bar with the slightest of winks in your direction, the object of your interest turns away and heads for the door.

      Lucas carries out the rest of his shift, and entertains patrons with tales of brave Sir Robin.

      odinloki_us wrote:

      Looking at that account stats, either you don't know how to play, or you've decided to see how bad an account you can make..?
    • Inwardly smiling to herself, Ivy checks her backpack to ensure she has the essentials.

      Swiss army knife
      leatherman
      cordage
      lighter
      headlamp
      water purifying straw
      two pairs of wool socks, one pair cotton
      first aid kit
      Pyrennes field guide (very important...going to see how many plants and animals can be checked off)
      ground cloth
      waterproof bivy sac
      summer weight sleeping bag
      rain pants and jacket
      silk long johns, change of undies
      fleecie
      wool cap
      extra tee
      long pants
      sunscreen
      hairbrush and toothbrush
      and last but not least
      4 blood oranges
      a nice selection of local charcuterie
      some idiazabal cheese...looking to get some roncal as she gets close to that village.
      A loaf of crusty bread and a tin of sardines....jsut because.

      The weather is perfect for the red cargo capri hiking pants, black tee shirt, light blue button down over shirt that acts like sunscreen, floppy tan sun hat ensemble not chic, but functional and comfortable...perhaps proper hiking boots would have been the better choice in footwear, but those were back home. Her usual sturdy adias climb over anything shoes would have to suffice....the bright green sunglasses Ivy found yesterday in Barcelona while waiting for the bus completed the look.

      Ivy takes the trail that will let her do the Lizardoia, Cascade de Cubo loop....then tomorrow head west along the spine of the mountains.
      Note:Any posts made by this poster should always be construed in the most innocent angelic way possible. The poster is not responsible for where your depraved minds go, if you have a depraved mind.








      || This area intentionally left blank. ||
      Our Lady of Croppers
      ~Semper DOS~ ~Viva Toons~
      The two most common elements in the universe are hydrogen and stupidity ~ Harlan Ellison
    • Scarecrow wrote:

      Speaking with a somewhat distant voice, his mind clearly back on his work in Iraq tracing any potential clues to the Hanging Gardens, he dismissed the fellow he could not recall.

      "I'm sorry but I really must decline. I am here only briefly to translate this cuneiform with Max. I trust you recall Professor Epper? We fly together this evening."

      Reminiscing his time with their enigmatic lecturer and how Max had essentially become substitute for his father that he was so estranged from, Jack once again began to walk.


      Jack

      Walking quickly, so as to avoid any further interruptions, you continue on across Library Square and enter the Old Library, where you spend a profitable afternoon with Professor Epper. Your work on the inscriptions completed, you are quite excited to have what you both hope is a real lead to the location of the Hanging Gardens.

      Your spirits are somewhat diminished, however, when you step outside to find that an unnaturally heavy fog has settled over Dublin. You can barely see the outline of the Campanile in the square.

      "I don't think we're flying anywhere tonight."

      Since even driving out of the city to hire a small plane at a county airport beyond the fogged out area is out of the question, you and the Professor decide to walk down to the Liffey and stroll along the quays toward Gratton Bridge. There are not many people out in the fog, and what traffic there is, is barely inching along, so the two of you are able to discuss the implications of what you have discovered without fear of being overheard.

      By the time you reach the Bridge, you're both starting to feel hungry, so you continue on through Wood Quay - the former site of an ancient Viking settlement, sadly the victim of riverside development - planning to turn up Fishamble Street and eat at the Bull and Castle.

      Suddenly you hear a scream, off toward the water's edge, muffled by the heavy fog. Instinctively, you run toward the sound, though the fog is growing thicker. An intense cold falls on you, and your head starts to spin. You black out.

      When you awaken, you are in the middle of a forest. No one else is in sight. As you examine your surroundings more closely, you realise that nothing you see around you is familiar to you. The trees and plants are similar to those you know, but not quite like anything you've seen - the shapes, the colours, the smells, the sounds, the thinness of the air you're breathing, even the quality of light filtering down through the forest canopy - everything is alien to you.

      (OOC - please itemise everything you are carrying on your person)


      The Burninator wrote:

      Lucas carries out the rest of his shift, and entertains patrons with tales of brave Sir Robin.


      Lucas

      Finally the bar is closed, the last patrons eased out the door, and you can drop the show and be yourself. You clean your station and do your share of the closing chores quietly and efficiently, say good night to your colleagues, and head for home.

      (OOC: I just noticed that the charming medievalist neglected to include some important spacio-temporal co-ordinates before leaving the bar. I have employed the retcon abilities of a game-runner to go back and include the missing information.)
      And now I'll tell you what's against us, an art that's lived for centuries. Go through the years and you will find what's blackened all of history. Against us is the law with its immensity of strength and power - against us is the law! Police know how to make a man a guilty or an innocent. Against us is the power of police! The shameless lies that men have told will ever more be paid in gold - against us is the power of the gold! Against us is racial hatred and the simple fact that we are poor.
      - The Ballad of Sacco and Vanzetti, Joan Baez

      The post was edited 3 times, last by Meherrin ().

    • Flossie Schmumpus wrote:

      Inwardly smiling to herself, Ivy checks her backpack to ensure she has the essentials.

      <snip>

      The weather is perfect for the red cargo capri hiking pants, black tee shirt, light blue button down over shirt that acts like sunscreen, floppy tan sun hat ensemble not chic, but functional and comfortable...perhaps proper hiking boots would have been the better choice in footwear, but those were back home. Her usual sturdy adias climb over anything shoes would have to suffice....the bright green sunglasses Ivy found yesterday in Barcelona while waiting for the bus completed the look.

      Ivy takes the trail that will let her do the Lizardoia, Cascade de Cubo loop....then tomorrow head west along the spine of the mountains.


      Ivy

      The forest is everything you hoped for. You leave the lake behind, travelling east along the Urrio River, then north. You decide to bypass most of the tourist accommodations in the town of Irati itself, but you do stop briefly at the historic shrine, the Ermita de la Virgen de las Nieves.

      Back into the forest, and continuing north, it is well into the afternoon when you reach Cascada de Cubo.



      You head further north, into the Lizardoia Reserve. Cresting a hill, you are treated to a vista of grrat natural beauty that takes your breath away.



      It's late enough in the day, so you decide to find a good place to set up your camp, off the trail so you won't be disturbed.
      And now I'll tell you what's against us, an art that's lived for centuries. Go through the years and you will find what's blackened all of history. Against us is the law with its immensity of strength and power - against us is the law! Police know how to make a man a guilty or an innocent. Against us is the power of police! The shameless lies that men have told will ever more be paid in gold - against us is the power of the gold! Against us is racial hatred and the simple fact that we are poor.
      - The Ballad of Sacco and Vanzetti, Joan Baez
    • Rubbing his forehead, his daze apparent, Jack muttered to himself "What on Earth happened?".

      Given his prior training and experience any idea of how he came to be in his current position seemed an entirely foreign prospect. His prestigious former military career allowed him no prior disposition to faint or fit and his last recollection was of attending to an overheard scream. Jack performed a cursory medical inspection of himself finding he displayed no evidence of capture or struggle. Indeed, the only injury he could perceive was a throbbing head; the apparent aftermath of his head hitting the concrete pathway as he fell unconscious. He came to the conclusion that however he ended up where he was, wherever that may be, must have been somehow by his own action but for what purpose he could not discern.

      Coming to terms with the situation he was presented, Jack checked his possessions. He still had his watch, the band and clasp keeping it to his wrist made of flint, steel and paracord; there was even a minor blade concealed within the clasp. His was thankful he wore his boots wherever he went although felt naked without his signature helmet or Horus and the comforting weight of safety they both represented. If not for a phone and wallet, given the night he was expecting to have had, his pockets were otherwise relatively empty.

      As a last check he pulled out his phone to investigate for any photos or clues to his whereabouts and whether he had reception. Although it did not feel as such, he could not be certain that this was all but a dream from which he would wake.

      Jonothan Crane wrote:

      Patients suffering delusional episodes often focus their paranoia on an external tormentor. Usually one conforming to Jungian archetypes. In this case, a scarecrow.

      The post was edited 2 times, last by Scarecrow ().


    • And the next morning, Lucas heads to the subway to do it all again. City life is nothing if not repetitive. Every simple act feels mass produced. Only in bizarre and contrived situations can things that seem original be produced.

      Thinking about this, Lucas contrives the formula for a new cocktail in his mind. That last one may not have come out just the way he wanted, but this time, it will taste divine, he tells himself.

      odinloki_us wrote:

      Looking at that account stats, either you don't know how to play, or you've decided to see how bad an account you can make..?
    • Scarecrow wrote:

      Rubbing his forehead, his daze apparent, Jack muttered to himself "What on Earth happened?".

      Given his prior training and experience any idea of how he came to be in his current position seemed an entirely foreign prospect. His prestigious former military career allowed him no prior disposition to faint or fit and his last recollection was of attending to an overheard scream. Jack performed a cursory medical inspection of himself finding he displayed no evidence of capture or struggle. Indeed, the only injury he could perceive was a throbbing head; the apparent aftermath of his head hitting the concrete pathway as he fell unconscious. He came to the conclusion that however he ended up where he was, wherever that may be, must have been somehow by his own action but for what purpose he could not discern.

      Coming to terms with the situation he was presented, Jack checked his possessions. He still had his watch, the band and clasp keeping it to his wrist made of flint, steel and paracord; there was even a minor blade concealed within the clasp. His was thankful he wore his boots wherever he went although felt naked without his signature helmet or Horus and the comforting weight of safety they both represented. If not for a phone and wallet, given the night he was expecting to have had, his pockets were otherwise relatively empty.

      As a last check he pulled out his phone to investigate for any photos or clues to his whereabouts and whether he had reception. Although it did not feel as such, he could not be certain that this was all but a dream from which he would wake.


      Jack

      Your cell (actually a military-grade cell-satellite hybrid, it's nice to have connections) shows no signs of receiving anything, not even GPS signals. Either the entire satellite grid is down, or.... No, it's too early to hypothesise on limited data.

      You decide to find out as much as you can about your current surroundings before making any moves. The trees around you are mostly broad, bare, rough-barked trunks for the first three or four metres; above that, they branch out rapidly, forming a canopy that does not allow much light to filter through. The ground around you is uneven, full of gnarled roots and rocks. There is little undergrowth, mostly primitive grasses and a few species of unfamiliar lichens and fungi.

      There is the usual forest population of crawling insects - again, none that you recognise - and you hear rustling and whirring sounds that suggest larger forms of life moving unseen around you.

      You feel a slight tilt in the ground beneath you, as if you were on rising ground. You see nothing at ground level to indicate anything more about your surroundings, not even direction or time of day.

      Your head is hurting less; it's time to take the next step.





      The Burninator wrote:

      And the next morning, Lucas heads to the subway to do it all again. City life is nothing if not repetitive. Every simple act feels mass produced. Only in bizarre and contrived situations can things that seem original be produced.

      Thinking about this, Lucas contrives the formula for a new cocktail in his mind. That last one may not have come out just the way he wanted, but this time, it will taste divine, he tells himself.


      Lucas

      At least, with today being Friday, you should do well in tips, especially if the new cocktail is a hit. And you have the rest of the weekend off this week - rotating schedules give all staff an equal share of the busy, and hence more lucrative shifts, one advantage of working for a boss who wants to appear socially conscious.
      And now I'll tell you what's against us, an art that's lived for centuries. Go through the years and you will find what's blackened all of history. Against us is the law with its immensity of strength and power - against us is the law! Police know how to make a man a guilty or an innocent. Against us is the power of police! The shameless lies that men have told will ever more be paid in gold - against us is the power of the gold! Against us is racial hatred and the simple fact that we are poor.
      - The Ballad of Sacco and Vanzetti, Joan Baez

    • (OOC: NYC is literally always crowded. I can't imagine any of the shifts being not lucrative! Just saying ;) )

      Like all promises to oneself, the promise that this cocktail would be divine died more happily due to its private nature. You'd have thought that the right quantity of sour would help cut the harder edge off the whisky and allow for more subtle flavorings, but somehow everything tried ended up tasting like cough medicine. A common experience.

      Ah well, at least Lucas was looking forward to the Renaissance fair. The next day, he caught a subway just a tad early to get to the aforementioned spatio-temporal coordinates with a little time to spare.

      odinloki_us wrote:

      Looking at that account stats, either you don't know how to play, or you've decided to see how bad an account you can make..?
    • Elliott was careful about planning his trip, he wanted something that was fun and safe yet not too thought out. While he couldn't wait to go for a climb he wasn't going to rush in unprepared, he'd made that mistake on one too many climbs already. He was careful in packing his supplies, packing food and emergency supplies as well as all the essentials. Once the packing was done the wildest part of the journey began: finding where he was going to climb.

      His first stop was the bus station to get on the first bus leaving not caring where it was going. He ended up heading on a long term bus to Georgia. While on his way there he gathered different items and checked out different maps. He found the perfect mountain in the forests in southern Georgia and, with a little research, very quickly knew the next part of his journey. He arrived at the base of the mountain with ease, traveling the last part by hitchhiking with a local, and began to plot out his route up the mountain. He went through his bag once more to check all of his supplies and then with a smile began his climb.
    • Ivy found herself a good spot to spend the night, wind protected facing east with a view of the rising sun. She gathered a pile of dried leaves for a soft bed, spread the ground cloth over them and then unrolled the sleeping bag. Noticed the water bottle she had purchased in the last hamlet she had been through needed filling, wandered off to find a brook to refill it. Mission accomplished, water filtered bottle refilled. Settling herself on a comfortable perch to eat her simple dinner of bread, cheese and some chorizo and jambon...all finished off by a blood orange.

      Thinking to herself this was a crazy way to go wandering....no compass, no cooking pot, no boots, no tent, only fresh food....really not very prudent...but on the other hand, she checked the weather, byt all the reports it would be sunny and dry for at least another week and honestly one was never more than a half a day's hike from a hamlet where one could stock up the cell phone had the gps...if needed...the only thing she really rued not having were her trusty summer weight hiking boots. Time to delve into the field guide and get to know the flora and fauna in the area....and start marking off the ones she had observed. Trees like the ancient yews, the silver firs, oaks and of course the beeches, the wonderful magical soothing beeches.
      Note:Any posts made by this poster should always be construed in the most innocent angelic way possible. The poster is not responsible for where your depraved minds go, if you have a depraved mind.








      || This area intentionally left blank. ||
      Our Lady of Croppers
      ~Semper DOS~ ~Viva Toons~
      The two most common elements in the universe are hydrogen and stupidity ~ Harlan Ellison
    • The Burninator wrote:

      (OOC: NYC is literally always crowded. I can't imagine any of the shifts being not lucrative! Just saying ;) )

      Like all promises to oneself, the promise that this cocktail would be divine died more happily due to its private nature. You'd have thought that the right quantity of sour would help cut the harder edge off the whisky and allow for more subtle flavorings, but somehow everything tried ended up tasting like cough medicine. A common experience.

      Ah well, at least Lucas was looking forward to the Renaissance fair. The next day, he caught a subway just a tad early to get to the aforementioned spatio-temporal coordinates with a little time to spare.


      (OCC: i did say 'more' lucrative. :) )

      Lucas

      You arrive a little early, in plenty of time to take a look around. The Cloisters Grill is a smallish place, with a Dominican family ambience about it. It's not too full - the breakfast crowd has thinned out a bit and lunch is still two hours away. You get the sense that your new acquaintance knows the establishment well.

      You hear a familiar voice. "Lucas! We're over here." You head over to the table and pull out a chair. "So glad you, uh, serendipitously happened to show up at the same space and time we did. This goofy redhead dressed up like a bard is Kelly, and the wandering tinker across from you is Blair. In case you forgot, I'm Robin, and today I am pretending to be a prosperous wool merchant. Gang, this is Lucas. He's awesome, can quote from any medieval text you throw at him and makes bartending look easy. What'll you have for brunch? The mangú is excellent, and they serve it with the traditional side dishes. Or something more lunchish? Or you can get standard American if you want."



      Carni wrote:

      Elliott was careful about planning his trip, he wanted something that was fun and safe yet not too thought out. While he couldn't wait to go for a climb he wasn't going to rush in unprepared, he'd made that mistake on one too many climbs already. He was careful in packing his supplies, packing food and emergency supplies as well as all the essentials. Once the packing was done the wildest part of the journey began: finding where he was going to climb.

      His first stop was the bus station to get on the first bus leaving not caring where it was going. He ended up heading on a long term bus to Georgia. While on his way there he gathered different items and checked out different maps. He found the perfect mountain in the forests in southern Georgia and, with a little research, very quickly knew the next part of his journey. He arrived at the base of the mountain with ease, traveling the last part by hitchhiking with a local, and began to plot out his route up the mountain. He went through his bag once more to check all of his supplies and then with a smile began his climb.


      Elliott

      You are in the southwest of Georgia, in the southern end of the Piedmont mountains. There have been new rock climbing trails opening in the area, mostly in nearby Marion County, but this area isn't open to the general public yet.

      The country is beautiful, the mountain you've found small enough to manage in a day, but still challenging enough to make the journey worthwhile. You pause for a moment, thinking about what you learned about the history of the area from Jim, the local who drove you from the highway in to the wilderness reserve. The Muscogee lived in this area once, before they were forced off their lands and onto the Trail of Tears. Though Jim said there were stories that a few of the Muscogee were never rounded up by Governor Troup's soldiers - they just went into the mountains around here, and vanished.

      Your climb is everything you'd hoped, and when you stand finally at the top, you look out on the world below you with a sense of accomplishment and pride. It's late in the day, and you decide that instead of making your descent, you're going to sleep out on the mountain. You can see a wooded hollow not far off to the east and only a little way down the mountain, protected from any wind. The air is warm and dry, no sign of rain or colder weather coming in. And it;s such a wonderful thing, to be alone, with no one making demands on you.

      (OCC: please list the supplies you carry with you.)


      Flossie Schmumpus wrote:

      Ivy found herself a good spot to spend the night, wind protected facing east with a view of the rising sun. She gathered a pile of dried leaves for a soft bed, spread the ground cloth over them and then unrolled the sleeping bag. Noticed the water bottle she had purchased in the last hamlet she had been through needed filling, wandered off to find a brook to refill it. Mission accomplished, water filtered bottle refilled. Settling herself on a comfortable perch to eat her simple dinner of bread, cheese and some chorizo and jambon...all finished off by a blood orange.

      Thinking to herself this was a crazy way to go wandering....no compass, no cooking pot, no boots, no tent, only fresh food....really not very prudent...but on the other hand, she checked the weather, byt all the reports it would be sunny and dry for at least another week and honestly one was never more than a half a day's hike from a hamlet where one could stock up the cell phone had the gps...if needed...the only thing she really rued not having were her trusty summer weight hiking boots. Time to delve into the field guide and get to know the flora and fauna in the area....and start marking off the ones she had observed. Trees like the ancient yews, the silver firs, oaks and of course the beeches, the wonderful magical soothing beeches.


      Ivy

      In the morning you follow the trail for a while until you come to a small village, where you have no problem negotiating with the residents to replenish your food stores before leaving the trail and all signs of human habitation behind you.

      Walking in silence among the great beeches, you feel the majesty and mystery of the ancient land of Navarra, and the magic of the Pyrenees. Heading north toward the mountain spine, you can't help thinking of all the legends about this area. The mysterious hidden caves sacred to the great earth goddess of the Basques. The secrets of the heretical Cathars, fleeing south from Languedoc into the mountains, never to be seen again. The holy mountain of Montsalvat, home of the Grail, that only appears to the most faithful and pure. And the tales of Roland, the mighty champion who died not far from where you are, in the pass at Roncevalles.

      You stop to have a midday rest - and a bit of bread and cheese - in a small ravine beside a mountain stream. Surrounding you are the trees, the wooded hills and surrounding them, the majestic mountains. You pack up, about to leave, but it's so peaceful, so calm, you stand there for just a moment, leaning back against a tree trunk, and close your eyes....

      A sudden fierce cold shocks you awake. You're surrounded by a thick mist, so thick you can barely see. The tree you were leaning against is suddenly ... not there, and you tumble backwards onto the grass, your fall partly broken by your pack. Before you can react, the mist swirls and seems to curl in on itself, vanishing in seconds.

      You struggle to your feet, looking around in confusion. The stream, the beeches, the firs, are gone. You are standing by the edge of a wide, well-trodded path running through a forest, and beyond that, you see wooded hills reaching back toward mountains - but nothing is familiar. Looking up in the sky, you see that even the sun is changed, it's darker, redder, larger, but its light not as bright as it should be.

      As you stand there, in shock, a cloaked and hooded figure, leading a heavily encumbered mule, rounds a turn in the path and comes into view. As they come closer, you see it is a young woman, oddly dressed beneath her cloak in what looks like a medieval style doublet and breeches tucked into high boots. You glimpse a short sword - or is it a long dagger? - hanging sheathed from a belt at her waist. She looks at you, eyes a little wary but not afraid, curious but not threatening, and speaks. Her words are strange, throaty, nothing like the Spanish, French or even Basque you half expect to hear. You understand nothing of what she says.
      And now I'll tell you what's against us, an art that's lived for centuries. Go through the years and you will find what's blackened all of history. Against us is the law with its immensity of strength and power - against us is the law! Police know how to make a man a guilty or an innocent. Against us is the power of police! The shameless lies that men have told will ever more be paid in gold - against us is the power of the gold! Against us is racial hatred and the simple fact that we are poor.
      - The Ballad of Sacco and Vanzetti, Joan Baez

      The post was edited 1 time, last by Meherrin ().


    • "Ah yes, the winds of fortune blow whimsically today," Lucas responds, gesturing a hello to the group referred to as 'gang.' Lucas himself is dressed up low key as a stablehand. I say low key because it's a workman's outfit that would be quite in place in a stable in a pre-industrial epoch, but also doesn't appear too far out of the ordinary for some contemporary agricultural work.

      But for lunch he orders simple grilled cheese. Turns out that working in a somewhat-fancy, fanciful bar doesn't whet ones appetite for complicated or exotic restaurant orders. Neither does the stablehand outfit.

      Or maybe the narrator here just wants some cheap characterization of Lucas and is willing to do so at the cost of plausibility ;).

      odinloki_us wrote:

      Looking at that account stats, either you don't know how to play, or you've decided to see how bad an account you can make..?
    • Given the only directional aid to be identified was the gentle sloping of the ground, Jack went downhill following the direction water would have flowed had it been there. Where there is water, one can find sustenance and civilization. A downhill trek would also be easier to perform saving precious energy.

      Jack kept one eyes on the surroundings, looking front, back, sides, high and low for any further indicators of his position be they plant or animal life, potential openings in the canopy, or food. Pausing occasionally he would also stop to listen to the sounds of the woods/forest; sounds he hoped would indicate nearby water.

      Jonothan Crane wrote:

      Patients suffering delusional episodes often focus their paranoia on an external tormentor. Usually one conforming to Jungian archetypes. In this case, a scarecrow.