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| Pay Disrespect to the Dead | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 27 2017, 04:22 PM (1,925 Views) | |
| ♦ SoIo | May 25 2017, 01:52 PM Post #31 |
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Light Bender
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"Hmm from the looks of it, by the word "tampering", the tombs were defaced. Though, it seems to be quite...well, very defaced. Defaced to the point where they actually opened the tomb to reveal the rotted out body. This happened about two nights ago. You do bring up a good point though, I'm sure we can talk to some people there. There are some people residing within Cactithedral that we could visit, especially with their election ongoing." Eileen's tone was slightly inattentive as most of her focus was on Lang's words. There were two points that were notable: One was about the "transform into snow", whom Eileen had to surmise he was talking about Mortimer. It almost felt frustrating that she couldn't recognize this weird ability. For anything to be that supernatural, the default was to point to Devil Fruits. So was that the case? And the other point was about his "boss", who must be the head of Jack of All Trades. I guess he's maintaining contact with his crew. Well, he is away from them. Still, I'll have to keep a careful eye out. They walked on for about 15 minutes until they arrived at the site. Eileen's expression turned stern upon looking at the defaced tomb, which was depicted exactly as how she had seen it from her picture. Her eye twitched upon smelling the awful stench from what was most definitely the rotted corpse. "Please tell me you have masks, Lieutenant Jackson?" Jackson nodded as he stood by next to her. "It'd be a problem if we didn't." She received her white plastic mask from the Marine soldiers as they took over duties of the parameter. As she wore it over her mouth and nose, she motioned Lang to stay within the vicinity and to take any observations. Smacking on her white latex gloves, she walked over to the tampered open tomb and without any second thoughts, looked into it. She looked around the inside of the casket, attempting to see if there was anything out of the ordinary. She tried to not be distracted by the fact there was a dead corpse right in front of her. To her dismay, she couldn't find anything. She looked away and heavily sighed in relief. Eileen then called upon a nearby Marine who had been supervising the area. "Who is this buried person?" "He was the previous head mourner that one of the pirates, Violet, had killed." "What the hell, that is treacherous. Anything else besides what we've seen so far? I couldn't find anything." "That's a shame. We were hoping you'd find something else. Anyways, we did find something, though we're not sure how significant it is." This caught Eileen's attention as the Marine held up a test tube with his bare fingers. Reacting instantly, Eileen snatched it away from his dirty hands and retorted. "You idiot, handle evidence with gloves so you don't tamper it!" The Marine quickly apologized as Eileen studied it. The tube was small, cylindrical, and quite murky brown inside. She wasn't sure if the dirtiness was from the Marine or the fact that it had been used. "Where was this found?" "Near the ground of the tomb." She nodded in acknowledgement. She then zipped the glass tube into an empty bag and then handed it over to the Marine. "Put this back into the base and into the evidence room. Handle it with care! I will look at this later tonight." The Marine nodded in obedience and went off. Well, at least they have something. She walked back to Lang and tore off the mask, finally being able to breathe more easily. She decided to move onto the next phase of her game plan. "Alright, might as well split the work here then. We'll be going into the Cactithedral there." Eileen pointed to the tall building. "It's Sunday morning, so there's a service that's ongoing. Ask some people around after the service. In the meantime, I will go to other small rooms inside the cathedral and ask around. Cool?" "Wait, what? You actually saw someone from the site of the tomb?" "Yes! ...well sort of. It was really foggy and I couldn't see. But I saw a shadow within the fog, in the site of the tomb. By the time the fog had lifted, the tomb had been opened! Our previous master must have been revived from the dead!" "It's okay, it's okay. No one has risen from the dead, the body is still there." "Bollocks! Of course someone has risen out of the dead! It has to be his dear soul! Our master's soul is going to come to haunt us! We must pray to dispel these terrible evil spells..." Eileen discreetly groaned and then laid her hand the caretaker's shoulder. "Tell me carefully, when was this and where you were. And if you can, describe the shadow." "I was finishing up some cleaning after a Friday night gathering and..." As she was speaking, Eileen jotted down her notes. The atmosphere around her was significantly more depressing than it was outside. In fact, she felt as if her perception of color had been drained by how sad it was. She was in a caretaker room, where kids ranging from 3-10 were within the room during service. The children all looked devoid of energy and with dull eyes, wearing very similar clothing, and staring at the floor, monotonously reciting their "mourning" prayers. There were many other caretakers tending to the children while Eileen was able to talk with one who possibly had the best evidence she could find in the entire cathedral. Many of the people she asked that weren't actively part of the service would always dodge her question, shivering in fright of the defaced tomb of their previous master. So from what the caretaker is saying: Maybe male figure, with what was described to be a jacket, relatively tall? From the looks of it, this seemed to be the action of just one person but she couldn't rule that out. Eileen tried her best to ignore the caretaker's plea of the revived dead. After taking out whatever she could, Eileen nodded and bowed in appreciation. Before she could leave however, there was one certain question she had to ask about the group. She particularly looked at the kids, seemingly growing up by the teachings of the droning voice of the caretaker. A lifestyle she could never imagine herself to be in. "So...I've been wondering, why do you all mourn for the dead so much?" She had to be careful with her wording as to not insult. "I'd like to know the benefits for doing so repeatedly." "Oh, lady Marine, have you heard about the history of this island?" "Well, I know there was a grand battle here and that many people have died on this island. But with how I've grown up, when people die, we remember them by one funeral, which is burying them, and then we generally lay peace to it. I don't see why this is necessary?" "Oh, that is so vile! Lady Marine, we do this because many people have died from wars and clashes. We want to respect them. Their souls, they see us, they hear us, they know us. Otherwise, we will be forever damned by the spirits of the past! These are scary warriors! Just look at Whiskey Peak! We don't want our children to turn into those vile creatures!" Eileen looked at the children again and her heart felt disdained. For them to grow up in such a...forced lifestyle made her feel somewhat emotional. But this was how the history of this island has been shaped, and there is nothing she could do about it. It made her stomach almost revulse. "...My apologies, madam. I will take my leave." |
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I'm going to be less active as of 9/25/17. Kinda hitting a point where I'm contemplating why I'm here while having a full-time job. OPRP Character Builder Tool (Last Updated: June 2017) Eileen Falkner Jessabelle Adams Ray Solo PSA | |
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| Crispy | May 26 2017, 06:04 PM Post #32 |
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Packet of Crisp
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Mortimer barely restrained outwardly groaning at hearing William's orders. Background checks? Really? How the hell were they supposed to do that? It wasn't as though there were some sort of easily accessible database full of relevant information about past actions and acquaintances that could, for example, be accessed by interested parties, or even law enforcement, to check a persons credentials. It wasn't as though something like that existed, a sort of spiders web of information...yes, that could be accessed remotely via radio waves or some such. Mortimer made a mental note to head to the patent office when all this was over and done with, but before then he had work to do. And it'd be a long, laborious process he was sure. "I've worked with Devlok before, old boy." Mortimer intoned smartly, "Reliable chap, no great ability to discern good ideas from bad but that's hardly a rare trait in our little band. As for the others I can't say I've had a great deal with contact with them up till now, but I'll get right on it." Mortimer sighed and turned to his erstwhile companions, shrugging his thin shoulders, face plastered with an apologetic smile. "And we were getting along so well, too. C'est la vie, duty calls. Langsam, old boy, I do hope you'll be able to manage here without me, I dare say the amount of travel and digging through old records it's going to take to do thorough background checks on two people we basically just have names for is going to take some time. Frankly we've not even received basic confirmation of identities from anyone, now that I stop to think about it. The entire crew could be working under aliases for all we know. Nevertheless, the sooner I get started the sooner I'll be done. And I do enjoy a spot of paperwork." Mortimer partially transformed into snow and began to drift away. "Ms Falkner! I look forward to working with you properly one day, until then, cheerio!" Blasting off for the ship, leaving a cheerful trail of snowflakes in his wake, Mortimer grumbled. How the Hell was he supposed to run a background check on these people!? There better be a filing cabinet on one of their ships somewhere that someone had the presence of mind to put some sort of forwarding address on or this could take him months. Around 3 months by his calculations. On the bright side, he might get a tan. OOC for the grader
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Mortimer Montgomery • Crew Position: Quartermaster • Profession: Chef • Crew: The Jacks Of All Trades • Threat: 186 • SD Earned: 348 • Beli: 17,000,500 • L: Grand Line: Route Two Solomon Th'uul • Crew Position: N/A • Profession: Martial Artist • Crew: N/A • Bounty: 7,500,000 • SD Earned: 150 • Beli: 53,500,000 • L: Grand Line: Route Three | |
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| ♥ Bright | May 28 2017, 11:26 AM Post #33 |
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Wannabe Writer
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It was both sad and annoying to see Mortimer rush off. It made sense, of course; as much as Lang enjoyed and had counted on his presence in helping them with their recent bout of work, it would be more efficient for them to split up and tackle both at once. He was hardly alone, either, having the intuitive, if slightly sharp and fussy, Eileen by his side. Or her having him by her side, really. It was clear enough she wanted to wear the boots in the relationship and handle things from an official standpoint. Slightly dreary, but she was good at it all the same. "I'll come help out as soon as we're done here," he promised. "Try not pop a vein when you come up cold. Your set of temperature, I know, but records on people like that are few and far between. Until next time, Mortimer!" He saw his friend off with a casual wave, followed by a slight sigh. Nothing quite like having an invincible snow man to watch your back. There was not much time to huff, however. The trio-to-pair arrived at their next point of interest, the Cactithedral. Or, more specifically, the graveyards littering the grounds around it. A marvelous building despite the frosty, gloomy air hanging about it like an arctic fog. Still being built, but already spires of finely wrought stone reached up to contest the cactus mountains for dominance of the skylines while statues carved down to the finest detail kept vigilant watch over the grounds. It was a shame, Lang thought to himself, they could not ask the gargoyles for a witness statement. Given their vantage point, there was little doubt they would have a lot to say. One grave in particular was receiving it's fare share of popularity, at least by Marines. Pilgrims surrounded the site, mumbling and whispering prayers but were otherwise held back by bright yellow and black cordons and polite sailors asking them to move back. Eileen and Lang, being such esteemed individuals with clearance, sailed through straight to the grave itself. Or what was left of it. Whoever had decided it would be a fanciful idea to 'tamper' with the tomb had a real go at it. The stone had been hit and cracked in places, while clumps of trodden earth were scattered around, hastily thrown as the grave was excavated. The casket was smashed open, releasing a putrid cloud of scent while also offering full-body shots of the perfumer themselves. "Lovely," Lang remarked dryly as he held a handkerchief over his mouth and nose to try and stop the smell. It was potent enough to nearly become a taste. He let Eileen risk a quick look before crawling in closer himself. A cursory glance revealed nothing but destruction. Didn't even qualify as a smash and grab; the corpse was still very much there with whatever was left of its burial garments. Lang was, however, less interested in the casket and its contents and more curious about the dirt itself. "Help me out here," he murmured and twitched his shoulder to try and wake up his ever-present companion, Red. She crawled, interested in the scents, from a pocket and jumped down into the disturbed dirt where her sensitive hairs went to walk combing the earth. She dug a little around the edge of the coffin, and suddenly began hissing and bouncing, before scrabbling to grab something in her many legs. "And what do we have here...?" Though he had to expose himself a moment to the awful smells, Lang pulled on a pair of gloves and retrieved Red's find. At first he thought them to be shards of bone, likely broken off in the vicious attack on the casket. Some gentle rubbing of the dirt encrusting it revealed otherwise; they were shards of nail, roughly clipped off by the earth. Whoever had done this had gone at it with their bare hands; and they had been busy beforehand, too. Though tiny, there were flecks of paint left on the nail. Red, yellow. Impossible to say if there was anything else. Holding it out on his gloved finger, he motioned for a Marine. "Get me a bag. Eileen, you ought take a gander when you have the chance. Not much, but something." If they were smart, the criminal would be sure to get a manicure as soon as possible. Digging bare handed in the dirt was sure - and evidently had - destroyed their hands. He handed it off to Mr. Jackson, who had apparently been relegated to their delivery boy. "Interviews now then, is it?" His smile was quick and sly. He did love some interviews. One by one his finger joints popped as he flexed them, gazing along at the grand Cactithedral doors. "Are you here to mourn, too?" a sweet old thing asked him as the service came to a close and the people began to rise. Lang had been skulking quietly in the back of the humongous nave. There were still scaffolds plating the walls and ceilings like spider webs, tools just waiting to be picked up and used again once the service was over proper and everyone was out the way. "In a way, yes," Lang replied with just as much honey. He was engaged with the sort that had an infinite larder of treats and goodies to give away to family and friends. "But I'm also here for the art, too. Marvelous, isn't it?" Indeed, although it was unfinished much like the rest of the cathedral, there were still great painted works adorning the ceiling. Whoever did them was an artist of the highest caliber. Or artists, most likely. "Oh, quite, quite! Sometimes I find myself just staring at them after a service. I do hope the departed like them. We try our best to honor them in any way we can - depicting them in such fine strokes must do much to ease their eternal souls, don't you think?" "No doubt, no doubt. Whoever made them, though? So much skill! Such style! I would surely love to meet them." "Ah, well, funny you should ask! It's actually a collaborative project. There are many artists on the island and each gets a small segment to complete - anyone can join in and help, however." "Is that so?" "Why yes, so long as you are mournful! Of course it's all overseen to make sure it all comes together, you know. Augusta Praetina is the 'head' artist I suppose you could say. We could pop along and see if she's about." Hand on his heart, Lang gushed with gratitude, "Oh, that would be a dream. My name is Jackson, by the way." He extended that same hand and they shook in the warmest manner. "Wonderful to meet you, Jackson! I'm Hope." With the strength that all enthusiastic grandmothers possessed, she began to lead Lang off into wings of the cathedral. "You know its wonderful when young people take an interest in culture. So many just want to run off to be pirates, or Marines or what have you. There is more than enough to mourn already, I say!" "Quite, Hope, couldn't agree more." It did not take them long. The room Hope was looking for was just off the main nave, another large room dedicated as both office and storage space. It was, however, devoid of anyone else. "Oh, what a shame, she isn't here. If you wanted to wait however, she tends to be here once service is over so she can supervise the work. I'm afraid I need to get home to the kids, however." "Of course, of course! A pleasure, Hope! Here's to another meeting!" Lang waved and waited and the moment he could no longer hear her footsteps he took to examining the various supplies stuffed in the back of the room. True to it being an artist's 'office' the place was packed with cans of paint in various forms. Except, it did not take long to notice an absence of some colors. Red, white... all those used in the graffiti. There were still some there of course, but it was obvious the numbers didn't add up with the rest of them. Lang rubbed his chin and left in search of Eileen. |
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| ♦ SoIo | May 29 2017, 09:47 PM Post #34 |
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Light Bender
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"Hmm..." Eileen was standing outside of the main cathedral, once again looking through the evidence images and lost in deep thought. In a scrambled effort, she organized the images. She was waiting for Lang to finish his part of interviewing. While doing so, Eileen was following through the next part of her plan: trying to figure out where the opponent was going to hit next. Based on the datestamp of the photos she has, there would be an inconsistent pattern where there is one day or a series of days where graffiti was painted. Then a tomb defacing would happen in between. So with the tampering of the previous head priest, that must mean a graffiti was planned for the next day, or the day after that. But where would it be? Suddenly, the image of one of the children popped into her head. The detective shook her head, quickly attempting to shake away the image of the dull child. Stop. There's nothing you could do for them...this is how they'll grow up. But Eileen's heart ached for them. There was so much potential missed in raising those children. It troubled her so much that she couldn't focus. It was only then when Lang exited out of the cathedral that Eileen refocused back to her objective. "Welcome back. Tell me what you've found later, but hear me out. So far, we've found two pieces of evidence. A test tube of some sort and then somebody's fingernails. Graffiti and tomb defacing is used to intimidate the citizens here. These incidences have been currently happening all over the island, with the two most recent ones in Velvet Tip and Cactithedral. I know the next incident planned SHOULD be another graffiti. So...let's see...locations. They didn't hit Whiskey Peak due to actual fears of a demon, so we don't have to worry about that. But in order they've hit Weeping Summit, Dour Top, Velvet Tip, and a tomb defacing here now so a graf-" Eileen then widened her eyes in realization. Of course, there was one area that hadn't been hit by graffiti yet: their current location, Cactithedral. She turned her head and surveyed the area around her, confirming her hypothesis. Their targets have to be hitting here next. Assuming Lang was as smart as her, he must also have pieced the puzzle as well. Eileen turned to face him and for the first time today, she broke out a cunning smile to him. "I got it." She looked out towards where Jackson and whistled loudly for him. The Lieutenant arrived and Eileen immediately relayed instructions. "Set up a secret perimeter here today. Stay hidden and camp out within the buildings of Cactithedral. I have full confidence that our targets are going to be some drawing more graffiti here tonight." Then came the moment of truth. Lang has been very cooperative so far and looked to be quite eager in helping their cause. This is the time for him to gain her trust. Eileen looked to her partner and relayed soft instructions. "You're going to help Jackson. As soon as you catch someone, relay the report to me. I'll try my best to stay up tonight as I will be applying some forensics of our evidence so we can gather more information. You have a Den Den Mushi right? Sweet, here's my contact information that should connect to one of the remote Marine ones here..." After exchanging information and whatever Lang needed to tell her, she nodded to the bounty hunter. "Cool! Alright, I wish you the best of luck. Let me know if you find anything." As she turned away to head back to base with a couple of other Marines, she passed by Jackson and quickly whispered to him without earshot of Lang. "You let me know too if he pulls any strings. Like ASAP. Don't hesitate." Jackson subtedly nodded. It was just Eileen's personality. She wanted to be doubly sure, even when putting her trust on someone that was still uncertain her. Though, she had to admit...Lang was a really nice gentlemen. Even if he could be acting it out...there was just a genuine vibe of him. It was a warm feeling. It almost made Eileen feel sad to leave him here. Edited by SoIo, Jun 7 2017, 08:02 AM.
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I'm going to be less active as of 9/25/17. Kinda hitting a point where I'm contemplating why I'm here while having a full-time job. OPRP Character Builder Tool (Last Updated: June 2017) Eileen Falkner Jessabelle Adams Ray Solo PSA | |
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| ♥ Bright | Jun 7 2017, 01:10 PM Post #35 |
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Wannabe Writer
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As he wandered among the arches, statues and judging gazes of stained glass figures in search of Eileen, it struck him how easy a lifestyle it must be to fall into. That of mourning loss, whether personal or otherwise, all day everyday until one's own body failed and the mind flew off to whatever spiritual plane was promised by groups, organisations and cults just like the Cactus Island lot the world over. Pangs long since buried defiled their own graves to tickle at the softer parts of his brain. The loss of their original captain, his near-death on Merrimont; what better way to escape, or perhaps more accurately come to terms with those losses, those fears, then by confronting them every single day? It was, he supposed, probably quite a comforting life style, even if a little morbid. Not necessarily as luxurious as he would like, and involved a confusing amount of work, but the residents of Cactus seemed happy in their own bizarre way. His wanderers took them out of the great cathedral doors and from there he spied Eileen, still burying her head around the graveyards and what evidence, leads and clues they had. It wasn't really all that much to go on, and they still had yet to pin down any real solid motive beyond typical political intimidation. Which at the end of the day, could simply be the case, but preciously who was supposed to be intimidated and for what purpose remained a little unclear. "Eileen," he politely called. She was cute when thoroughly engaged in her work. He wasn't able to get a word in, and forget any notions of trying, in the face of her fervor and running mouth. It was easy to see where her thoughts were going, and he simply smiled and nodded as she dots connected to form a pattern. A pattern they could exploit. "Agreed, it's a good course of action; and I happen to be quite good at hiding." A moment of pride followed quickly by a twist of concern. If Eileen wasn't joining them, she opened herself up to risk. "That said, be safe, Eileen. If they don't know we're onto them now, they mustn't be very good criminals. Anyone half-way decent might try cut the head of the beast attempting to eat them. That head being you, in this instance. Try not go anywhere alone." At the very least they had each other's numbers and could call if anything went askew, but that wouldn't necessarily save her if they struck too quick or help couldn't get their in time. All assuming, of course, these people were prone to murder. Graffiti and defacing the tombs of those who weren't in a position to mind was one thing, attacking a Marine official was another. That and really, what was to say she couldn't defend herself? Lang breathed in amusement at himself; perhaps he was getting cocky after all their recent success and the rewards gained there after? He ought have more faith in her. "Eileen!" he called after her as she started to pull away. "Let's catch us some bad guys, yes?" He gave her another wave goodbye, then turned, clapped and rubbed his hands together towards Jackson and the rest of the soldiers loitering around the crime scene. "Alright boys, let's get these barriers down, shall we, and a nice game of hide and seek going..." Hours passed, the sun begin to dip while the moon rose. Eventually the light went from yellow, to orange, to red, then finally disappeared all together into black until the moon and stars rose enough to paint the land in a frosty blue. Lang pulled his coat closer to him; the temperature really had plummeted. He was tempted by the prospect of a cigar, but knew the light would make him stand out like a cheap and sleazy neon-lit burger joint. The graveyard was silent and still save for a few wisps of fog rolling lazily in from the sea. Towering above them like a gate to the underworld, was the cathedral in all its macabre glory. In the various gardener's sheds and houses that were dotted around the perimeter of the yard were the Marines and Jackson, doing their best to suppress yawns and to keep their breathing to a minimum. Lang, meanwhile, was doing the same, only posted dead center in the yard. He stood by a tomb, not flinching a muscle and melting into the background despite standing in what should have been plain sight. He was tired and hungry and really wanted a nap, but there was work to be done. A good delivery here meant even more beli deposited in their coffers and he could treat himself to another small holiday, hopefully with significantly less injuries to boot. He had his suspicions on who. The evidence was damming, though admittedly not solid, but what really perpetuated him was why. Such strange figures to evoke, and at such a strange time too. He did not permit himself a sigh and continued to wait. A few meters from him, Red was positioned, similarly still and hidden. She was in her natural environment, and was no doubt having a blast; it had been a long time since she got to act a member of her species, rather than joining Lang in riding the loud, rattling pain train on adventures of violence. Together, they were in a prime position to pounce and catch whoever was dumb enough to fall into their sting. Hopefully, their criminals were that dumb. Tech |
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| ♦ SoIo | Jun 7 2017, 08:56 PM Post #36 |
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"What do you mean by "it's tradition" for this island!? Don't you see how terrible the culture is here? Children shouldn't be growing up like that!" "Eileen, it is important that we keep the island as it is and let society make its change here. If this is how it continues, then let it continue. We are only here to make sure pirates don't ruin this island again like with Leander." "With all due respect, sir, society shouldn't allow this kind of infrastructure where this is a lifestyle of just utter...brainwash! It's hogwash brainwash! I can't believe this exists, shouldn't we enforce positive change to happen here!?" "EILEEN! DO NOT MAKE ME REPEAT MYSELF! You are being emotionally charged and it is compromising your duty!" "..." "Sigh...Eileen, you're a good Marine. But we are simply following protocol. What's important is that you do your job, alright?" "...Yes, sir." "Good. Besides our unusual collaboration with Langsam, anything else I should know of? You're making real progress with this investigation." "None, sir. I'll be on my way." Eileen was essentially silent after her tense argument with the Marine Captain. She was in a rarely used (and rather resourceless) lab in the basement of the Marine outpost, meticulously studying the two pieces of evidence that they had found earlier: The used test tube and the oddly disgusting fingernails. As she was setting up her shop, she was trying her best to push away the thoughts of the Cactus Island children as it only served to distract her. They don't deserve it...this island doesn't have to be this way... With her gloves, she carefully cleaned the dirt from the exterior of the test tube. She then lifted it and brought it close to her eyes, examining it with scrutiny. The contents inside was a ghastly gray color, most certainly containing elements of a mixed substance. Perhaps chemically concocted. Maybe she could reverse engineer it somehow...see if she could see what were the substances used. Setting up the procedure, she let the substances burn into a liquid by putting a small burner below it, allowing her to extract and study it through a microscope. In the meantime, she proceeded to look at the fingernails; only about 3 clips to her expense. Quite unfortunate how someone could break their nails in what appeared to be them trying to lift the tomb. Though, these were exceptionally long, at least a centimeter. That said, she couldn't generalize the gender as she wasn't able to distinguish just by looking at the fingernails. Though, there were small spots of old paint that were splattered around the fingernails. In addition, she noted some coarse and rough edges, something she could barely recognize as a person who was a heavy builder. A possible architect, perhaps?. Upon the deduced revelation, Eileen raised her eyes in curiosity. After a few more minutes and scavenging around, she could not find anymore information. Hmm...interesting. There are reconstructions being done on some of the wrecked buildings on Velvet Tip. I wonder... Her eyes widened when she heard the familiar noise of bubbling. Turning around, she was surprised to see that the substance in the test tube had already liquified. In fact, it was boiling. She stared at it for a few seconds, watching the visible gas vaporize into the air. Hesitantly, she walked towards the test tube, contemplating at the properties of this certain chemical. What could it be? I have to be careful in extracting it. But it was already too late. Within a few inches away from the material, her vision began to be distorted. Eileen began to wobble as her head intensely rocked. Her surroundings changed into shades of ominous mix of orange and red. As she refocused her sight on the test tube, she widened her eyes in fear. A huge snake unrealistically crawled out of the test tube! With its body in unexplainable texture, the dangerous animal quickly approached her. Eileen shrieked as the snake launched out a biting attack towards her head. Immediately, she opened her eyes and was awake. She stared at the dim light ceiling in confusion, seeing that her line of sight has returned to its original colors (or so she thought it was original). Upon taking a quick glance, she knew she was still at the lab as she recognized some recognizable features in the room. But it turned out she had collapsed upon the hard floor. Though, she was no longer alone. There were two Marines with white plastic masks covering their nose and mouth that were looking down on her. She slowly rose from the floor, with the two Marines assisting her up. She looked towards her side and quickly noted a third Marine also knocked unconscious. Seeing as he did not have a gas mask, Eileen could quickly deduce what had happened. "He recklessly wanted to check on me, didn't he? But he also succumbed to the effects of that gas. You two noticed so you wore masks." She then looked at where she had placed the test tube, to which it was now covered by a transparent tent. She looked at the two Marines and nodded in appreciation. The two Marines must have been skilled in some sort of science field to understand and assess the situation. "Thank you for setting up safety measures. How long was I knocked out for?" "I think 30 minutes? That guy there has been out for about 15 minutes." Eileen nodded as she was able to regain control of her body again. She softly shrugged her shoulders and wiggled her arms, indicating to the two Marines that she could independently move. Eileen slowly walked towards the contained evidence and stared at it in a concerned matter. The effects must have been light as there must not have been a lot to begin with, but she could not imagine how much more intense it could have been. She shook her head in disappointment, moreso of herself. "Shit. I was careless, I should have found some sort of air duct. I never imagined that to be so dangerous!" She kicked the drawer in frustration. Quickly after, her mind began to act. "One of you carry our fellow Marine to a comfortable bed. The other person call up an engineer. I'll need help to set up a ventilation system." She shifted her eyes to a window that was near the ceiling. Thankfully, this room was still connected outside. "We can use that." She recognized this gaseous weapon, otherwise known as a fear toxin. It was highly dangerous and she needed to concoct an antidote for it. Otherwise, many of the citizens' lives could be jeopardized and suffer a much worse experience than she had. And it alarmed her: she knows now that the target (or targets) they were pursuing were simply not juvenile people. These people wanted to cause harm. But why? She didn't have a clue yet. But regardless, she needed to act quick. |
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I'm going to be less active as of 9/25/17. Kinda hitting a point where I'm contemplating why I'm here while having a full-time job. OPRP Character Builder Tool (Last Updated: June 2017) Eileen Falkner Jessabelle Adams Ray Solo PSA | |
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| ♥ Bright | Jun 11 2017, 02:35 PM Post #37 |
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Another breeze, soft but carrying daggers of ice, nibbled at any exposed skin it could find and made Lang want to shiver again. He resisted the temptation and continued his stoic stillness, for fear of revealing his presence to any would be graffiti artist. They were taking their time, that was for certain. The night well and truly was upon Cactus Island and few windows remained lit. Sometimes, Lang was certain he could pick up the frustrated whispering or an occasional shuffle of a numb limb coming from the various hiding places that the Marines were using for cover. For a time he thought that maybe the perpetrators weren't going to come, either because their predictions had been off or that their efforts to set a trap had not gone entirely unnoticed. Eventually, however, someone brushed the tripwire and disturbed the darkness. Lang's entire frame tensed as two pairs of impatient feet hurried through the grass. One was elegant and consistent, even when under such haste, while the other was oddly irregular, as if its owner was on the verge of collapsing with every step, or otherwise incredibly clumsy. A limp, perhaps? For a moment, they searched and bickered in hushed voices, briefly stopping before the woman's voice hurled some complaint. The only thing to look at were tombs, unless the pair were instead a couple of earthworm enthusiasts. "No, not big enough. What about that one?" They shuffled around some more. As they came closer, Lang could pick out not just words but a slight rattling of metal and sloshing liquid. "Hmm... no, too much detail on this one. Paint won't set properly. Besides, it's too nice to deface." Again their feet kicked around the grass until they were directly next to the large tomb Lang was stationed nearby. It's face was largely flat and blank, whatever inscriptions being written there having long fallen victim to the cleansing power of time. There wasn't a better canvas on offer save the skin on their backs. "This one, here. This'll do nicely." More rattling metal, more sloshing, and an earthy thunk as cans were dropped to the floor. Lang did not move straight away. Instead, he waited until they were were as stuck and fumbling in their own crimes as they could be, with one bent over backwards trying to pry off stubborn lids and the other laying a foundational layer of white. They didn't hear him coming until he was virtually on top of them. "Interesting choice of medium you have there." The woman shrieked, jumped back and tried to brandish a paint brush as threateningly as some horse hairs could be. She was a slim and beautiful woman, the sort that'd succeed to almost anything she'd put her mind to, whether by her own talent or that of others. If she could not help herself, then there would be legions of men to step in and provide help for her. Gorgeous red hair was tied until a beehive and a stained apron hid a polka dot dress, though even the flecks of paint covering the white seemed somehow intentional and a work of art by themselves. "Augusta Praetina, can I presume?" The man was larger, as they so tended to be. Not terribly burly, but he was either the inheritor of good genes or otherwise privy to the benefits of a healthy lifestyle; but no amount of protein shakes or leg days could help the crooked left leg. A club foot hung at its end, unsure of where exactly its place in the world was and where it really needed to go, while the rest of the length was twisted in just enough ways to give the impression of several knees. All the same he was a fairly handsome individual, a trait which even the thinning hair and few patches of raw skin, the recipient of accidental spills, seemed to oddly add to. "Leave, now. You saw nothing." Lang clicked his tongue. "If only I could agree with you, so we could forget all this business and we could go for coffee sometime. Unfortunately, I saw a lot of things." Slowly, she was reaching to her back pocket. "And so too, I imagine, did the several squads of Marines currently surrounding us. So perhaps don't get so jumpy." Hesitation stopped her, but it didn't put a halt to the calculation whirring past her eyes. She didn't have much of a response, only a hiss. Idly, Lang took out a set of handcuffs and began twirling them on his finger. "I'd like to think that's an alternative way of saying you and your accomplice surrender." |
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| ♦ SoIo | Jun 12 2017, 05:00 PM Post #38 |
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"Come on...!" Her eyes scrutinized at the grey looking substance on top of a white lab sheet, which had taken a glossy pudding-like texture now that it was liquified and completely extracted from the test tube. Its texture reflected a dull light. Taking safety precautions into account, Eileen was wearing a white plastic mask, the same type she had used for her investigation of the tomb. In addition, she now had a ventilation system recently set up by her fellow Marines that now sucked the air as soon as any properties were emitted from the substance. Despite the newly set up environment she was in, Eileen was quite frustrated. After she had quickly transitioned to the microscope, she couldn't make out the chemical behaviors the toxin was exhibiting. This type of chemical weapon was foreign to her and had barely aligned with any concepts in her studies. She growled as she knew she had no choice but to figure it out herself. But could she do it within a single night? What if Lang needs her help at this instant? What if he becomes affected by this toxin somehow? Deep inside, she knew she couldn't have gone wrong with her deduction. The two culprits had to be slamming some graffiti on Cactithedral. She needed to act urgently, and effectively. She was more than willing to stay up the night to concoct an antidote as soon as possible. With her 32 ounce coffee cup containing a double shot espresso, she took a gulp and revitalized herself with energy. She shook her head and widened her eyes, refocusing and accelerating her brain to work. She began to set up multiple tests that would help her reach a conclusion. Hang in there, Lang...I know it's cold outside, but I hope you aren't getting yourself into trouble. "Augusta Praetina...? And...oh my God...Henry. Is that you?" Now with the two culprits caught red-handed, the Marines emerged from their hiding places and began to box them in. Lieutenant Jackson lead the unraveling of the Marines and approached the two by stepping in front of Lang. It went without saying that Jackson was able to recognize the burly man. The burly man fidgeted in response and immediately placed his heavy hand onto Augusta's shoulder. "We need to leave." Augusta quickly nodded as she loosened her body. Immediately, the man that was apparently known as Henry, threw down his right arm as if he held something. A blast of deep grey smoke enveloped the area and masked the two criminals. Obviously, this looked like a cheap tactic used to make escapes easier. But the perimeter was set up where both Augusta and Henry were surrounded, making their attempted escape almost null. However, that wasn't the case. As the smoke widened its range, it caught wind of a few of the Marines. The first hitting Jackson as he was the closest. Immediately, Jackson reacted unpleasantly. He screamed as he knelt down to the ground, screaming helplessly and almost panicking. "Wh-Wh-What is this!? B-b-bats...BATS! THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!?" And then he turned around to face Lang, reacting even more violently. "M-M-MONSTER! GET AWAY FROM ME! GET AWAY!" Before a few of the perimeter Marines closest to the criminals could react, they caught wind of the smoke and were also affected similarly to Jackson. Taking advantage of the disabled Marines, Augusta and Henry emerged mysteriously unscathed (and without their paint materials) from the smoke and desperately ran. Despite Henry's crooked leg, he was more than capable of athletically running. |
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I'm going to be less active as of 9/25/17. Kinda hitting a point where I'm contemplating why I'm here while having a full-time job. OPRP Character Builder Tool (Last Updated: June 2017) Eileen Falkner Jessabelle Adams Ray Solo PSA | |
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| ♥ Bright | Jun 17 2017, 07:52 AM Post #39 |
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Credit where it was due, the Marines acted with wonderful haste and began to tighten the snare around their combined prey as soon as their hands were caught stirring the mud. Lang took a step back to allow Jackson and the rest of them through; they were more than welcome to do the heavy-lifting of actual arrest, and while neither Henry nor Augusta seemed particularly threatening, he couldn't help but feel a little anxious at the prospect of a fight. The aches in his chest did much to remind him of that. "By all means try, but you're going to have to run far and fast. We all saw it, and soon enough the entire island is going to see your faces plastered all over a pair of bounty posters." Except, the pair deserved their own share of credit. As clumsy and easy to track as their crimes had been, it didn't change the fact that they had at the very least come prepared. Henry raised his arm and Lang flinched back another step. He allowed himself to relax, but only for a split second, at the sight of the smokescreen. If only that was all it consisted of. He was about to give chase through the cloud, but it reached Jackson and the other surrounding Marines, and its effects upon them immediately put a stop to those plans. Jackson, screaming and wide-eyed, lashed out with a clumsy punch. A pang of horror crept through Lang at the sight of those wispy tendrils casually blowing toward him on the nighttime breeze. It did not take so much as a high schooler to work out that the gas was far more than a mere smokescreen; it was a weapon, one that apparently preyed upon and made real the fears of anyone that tasted its perfume. Lang recoiled, hesitated. The men were properly enveloped in the mist, and he couldn't get close to help them without risking infection himself. He did not know how potent the stuff was, how easily it would filter through a mask, or indeed how to help the men even if he could restrain them. Chemistry and pharmacology were not his forte; catching criminals was. "Just stay put, we'll get you some help..." he murmured, before turning and running away and around the cloud in pursuit of Henry and Augusta. His Den Den appeared in his hand, while Red leaped to his shoulder from a grave. "Eileen, come in! I'm running after our vandalizing pals, but one of them seems to have some sort of weaponized hallucinogenic. Jackson and a few others are gibbering wrecks at the moment. I'm going to try tail them for now, see if they have a hideout somewhere, but I could really use some support. We're heading east by south east from the cathedral graveyard. Sooner the better!" The snail clicked in satisfaction and fell back to sleep, snug in Lang's pocket despite the constant bouncing and shaking. He slowed his pace, ever so slightly, and held back while slipping from grave to tree to fence, always sticking to the night-blessed shadows. Good for them if Henry and Augusta figured they'd caught them all with their nefarious gas weapon. Certainly, he could close the distance and engage, but two-on-one were never great odds. Besides, taking them down there and then was throwing away an amazing opportunity for evidence. Henry's weapon alone was enough to see a hefty number placed on his head, but without knowledge of where had gotten or manufactured it, there was only so much they could charge the pair with. Somehow Lang figured there was more to it. It had been too easy so far, the tracks too large and easy to trace; there must have been more to it than simple vandalism. True, most criminals weren't especially smart, but most criminals also didn't have access to a fear inducing toxin. The sort of thing that could, perhaps, on a wide-enough scale and with the right sort of theatrics be used to make an island of superstitious death worshipers see something that could massively influence their decision making and voting habits. Some sort of figure known to have wreaked ruin upon them in the past, perhaps. He was not satisfied with throwing away the chance of uncovering a conspiracy just for vandalism and assault charges, oh no. Tech |
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| ♦ SoIo | Jun 19 2017, 09:04 PM Post #40 |
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"Dammit!" 3 hours in, probably almost nearing the darkest of nights, she was almost done with her tests and has frustratingly reached to no conclusion. She was able to retrieve more information about the chemical, but could not find grounds enough to make an antidote. Eileen's lip quivered in almost an upset manner as she meticulously worked on dissecting the solidified weapon. How could there be a chemical I'm not yet aware of? HOW!? But she already knew the answer. Is the Grand Line full of this many undiscovered wonders? How long will it take for me to discover the antidote before more lives are lost! Unfortunately, she didn't have the reactive time to answer her own rhetorical question. Instead, the ringing Den Den Mushi would answer the question. She fearfully looked at it, expecting the inevitable call to be something of bad news. And indeed it was. Her emotions rose as she heard Lang spoke in a fretful manner for backup. Her brain raced in chaos as she heard Jackson was affected by the same toxin was she was studying. Curling her fist, she slammed her hand against the desk. The materials rattled around her. "Dammit! Okay, I'll be on my way, Lang! Whatever you do, do not lose sight of them! Keep chasing them at all costs! I need you to relay to me your exact location!" Immediately, without any second thoughts, she put herself into action. She quickly dialed her Den Den Mushi and called out for reinforcements, waking up any Marine, even a few that were off duty. Given the premature action from Jackson, the Marines were already beginning to assemble, Eileen just had to be the catalyst. Quickly after, she talked to the same Marine who had helped her from unconsciousness. "You're one of the field scientists, yes?" "Yeah..." "I need you to do something for me while I go off to assist our men. How much do you know about poisons?" "Enough to understand their chemical components." "Great. I need you to set up more tests for me so that when I come back, I can conduct them all in a swift manner. I have notes and a journal that I've recently jotted down to guide you in any way. The lives of many citizens are depending on us, so we can't afford to screw anything up!" Eileen geared herself up with her firearms and she turned her head to lead the assembled Marines. She nodded and they made their way towards Cactithedral. In the meantime, she was still in deep thought of making the antidote. |
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I'm going to be less active as of 9/25/17. Kinda hitting a point where I'm contemplating why I'm here while having a full-time job. OPRP Character Builder Tool (Last Updated: June 2017) Eileen Falkner Jessabelle Adams Ray Solo PSA | |
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| ♥ Bright | Jun 23 2017, 03:53 PM Post #41 |
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Just where are you taking us... Lang pondered to himself. He almost thought them aloud, but made do with simply mouthing silently. He hadn't yet been spotted, and it would be a absolute sham to throw away such a huge component of the case through such a ridiculous error. Augusta and Henry kept on running, leaving the open space of the graveyard and returning to the more cluttered life of the urban street. They took a left onto Sanguine Street, then a right onto Everrest Avenue, each new name slowing their pace as their heartbeats calmed and the threat of arrest began to cool. Of course Lang continued to tale them. His breath was kept to an absolute minimum, his footfalls timed perfectly with the couple's own and his path deftly weaved from shadow to shadow, doorway to doorway. He would have preferred a less intense chase, for their speed never slowed to anything less than a very brisk power walk. On such empty streets, it only made the task doubly risky and difficult. Regardless, Lang could and would persevere. Although it was naturally important that the criminals themselves be apprehended - a requirement for their bounties, after all - it was extra lucrative to bust their hideout, operation, and whatever conspiracy was being cooked up in there. If there were such a thing, then it only stood to reason that the pair's worth would skyrocket; gains Lang would be able to cash in on handsomely. Although it let a flash of guilt pass through him, he was at least partially glad for Mortimer's departure as it left something of a literal silver lining in the fact that they wouldn't have to split it. Obviously some share of the loot would be deposited in the Jack's overall pool, but it still left a significant portion for his own enjoyment. Lang, however, was getting a little ahead of himself. Had he delved too deep into those fantasies, then it was entirely possible they would have smothered a part of reality. The streets, as it were, weren't entirely empty. The call for reinforcements may not have had the local residents up in arms and marching the streets with torches, but it did have every Marine on the island stirred up into a small frenzy and combing the city with rapid gusto. One such tooth of that comb stumbled around a junction only a few meters before Henry and Augusta were due to make it. The moonlight lit him up like he was on stage, and from the dumb, frozen expression on his face and the clumsy way his held his rifle, it was clear he wasn't terribly far on the career ladder or indeed into any particularly wonderful training. Before the pair could actually reach him, he managed to regain his wits, close his gawping jaw and snatch at his Den Denwhich he began to blair into. Lang saw this. Henry saw this. Henry was closer. He raised a beefy fist, needle glittering between his fingers, and quickly closed in to shove it deep into one of the boy's veins, no doubt to deliver some awful toxin. Lang cursed with the skill of a sailor and kicked his legs until they were a blur. He hadn't wanted to break cover, but nor could he just stand-by and watch some goofy young kid get slaughtered. He didn't like guilt, he knew he wouldn't like the betrayed eyes of Eileen on his back if she ever found out he stood and did nothing. True, attacking them there and then might cost them vital evidence which in turn could cost Lang a large part of his envisioned reward. But some things were worth the price. The blur faded, and Lang was considerably closer to the pair. Close enough, and already transforming. His hair grew, from which arms sprouted, while a dark lump erupted from his lower spine. One arm flung forward and a spindly spear of white leaped at Henry's arm, catching it inches from the Marine's neck before yanking it and Henry off to the side. He flew a short way and landed in a tangled mess into a wooden cart that smashed to splinters from the force. Augusta whipped around and gasped. "You... I thought the gas got you." Lang shrugged, causing every arm to bounce. Red hissed from her perch on his shoulder. "You thought wrong." Planks clattered to the floor as Henry picked himself up. "I'm really not in the best state for fisticuffs. Really was rather hoping to avoid the whole schlark. But then you needed to go and try be murderers, didn't you?" He sighed. It was a great bother. "More money for me, I suppose, though your sort really ought keep it to vandalism if you're incompetent enough to get caught so easily." Techs |
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| ♦ SoIo | Jun 24 2017, 10:55 AM Post #42 |
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My God...this is the full effects of the gas. The scene in front of Eileen looked like controlled chaos to her. Chaos in the sense that multiple Marines appeared to be psychologically crumpled on the ground, but controlled where the Marines were urgently acting to prevent further collateral damage. Any apparently unaffected Marines were working tirelessly to help their fallen comrades, all wearing white plastic masks to counteract the gas' effect. Regardless, the area looked as if a post apocalyptic world had unravelled in front of her. Eileen stared at the gray gas in the middle of the scene, billowing as if it was like a cloud. Immediately, she put on her white plastic mask to make sure no one would suffer from the fear toxin. She then turned around to her extra reinforcement. "Get these Marines into a hospital care in our base as soon as possible! They need to be treated before they hurt themselves more!" After calling out her orders, the Marines swiftly went into action. Eileen proceeded towards her partner Lieutenant, who appeared to be incapacitated. Jackson's eyes twitched uncontrollably and were wide in fear. However, his body remained stoic. The Marines around him were keeping him subdued. "What happened here?" "We were apprehending the criminals before they let out this...unexplainable gas and then escaped!" Eileen growled as she knew this gas was exactly what she was studying. However, she was too late in trying to find a solution. "How long do you think until the gas dissipates and becomes ineffective?" "I'd give it...3 more hours maybe? It will be until the morning." "Dammit! Okay, make sure that no citizens are caught in this mess! Secure the perimeter and keep anyone out until the gas is impotent!" She scanned around the area and found out one missing factor. "Ensign! Where is the bounty hunter that was assigned to this reconnaissance position!?" "I think he was chasing after the victims! I remember one of them that Lieutenant Jackson was able to recognize. He went past the gas!" And without hesitation, Eileen ran towards the gas, despite concerned calls from the Marines not to venture in. Even with the mask over her nose and mouth, she held her breath as she entered in the gas. She did not want to take any chances, even with protected gear. As soon as she emerged from the gas, she continued breathing. Seemingly unaffected, Eileen pushed forward and chased after Lang. There was one part that Eileen had found troubling that she will have to figure out later. Jackson was able to recognize one of them? But who...? "You are terribly mistaken if you think we are murderers. We are liberators. And that is exactly what we will do to this island." Henry had raised an eyebrow upon seeing Lang's transformation, immediately recognizing him to be a Zoan user. However, that did not prevent his next plan of attack. Henry threw down another ball, this time billowing their surroundings with a much lighter color of smoke. This was not a gas toxin, but it was instead primarily used to veil both the duo's movements. Augusta came forward and brought out a brightly colored long blade, using it to swipe at Lang. Although Lang could attempt to block it, Henry attacked from behind where Lang's guard was at lowest, intending to use more needles to incapacitate the bounty hunter. However, a whooshing sound could be heard around Henry. Alarmed, Henry ceased his attack on Lang and instead guarded behind his own back. The needles clashed against a knife, intending to hit his stomach. Henry growled as the smoke blew past to unveil his new opponent, Eileen. She was able to catch up to them in time to save Lang from any extendable pain. Eileen's intense stare matched Henry's as their weapons clashed. Eileen was able to take a good look at Henry's face. A feel of odd familiarity crept up to her upon seeing him, even though she couldn't exactly recall. ...Do I know him too? Is this who Jackson was talking about? Before she could continue thinking about it, she could feel a sideway force as Henry disengaged his attack and used his "crooked" foot to back leap into the air and over Lang. Henry landed near Augusta and they both jumped out of the gas. Eileen walked towards Lang and they both also exited out of the veiled smoke. Immediately, she noted different characteristics of her bounty hunter partner, almost as if the man had turned into a spider! Eileen's expression changed into shock and slight disgust. Though, she became less worried as she could tell the man was still Lang based on his facial attributes. She had come across this type of ability maybe once in Loguetown, as these were exceptionally rare in the Blues. But...maybe not so much in the Grand Line. "You didn't tell me you had a Devil Fruit, Lang." Eileen amusingly stated. It was nearly a standoff. Both duos, with their weapons prepped, stared at each other in the middle of the street. Both anticipating wanting to anticipate each other's movements. Eileen then spoke softly to Lang. "So...I guess these are our vandalizers. You got a game plan in mind?" |
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I'm going to be less active as of 9/25/17. Kinda hitting a point where I'm contemplating why I'm here while having a full-time job. OPRP Character Builder Tool (Last Updated: June 2017) Eileen Falkner Jessabelle Adams Ray Solo PSA | |
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| ♥ Bright | Jun 28 2017, 09:09 AM Post #43 |
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"Ah yes. The old freedom fighters routine." Lang snorted, a mix of trite boredom and mild humor. As he did so, Red snuck deftly from his pocket, down the back of his leg, and into the shadows of the surrounding buildings. "It's a very convenient get-out-of-moral-jail card, isn't it? Any crime, any atrocity, becomes a trifling matter to be swept under the carpet and forgotten about since, after all, it's all for the greater good and thus justified and excusable. Assuming of course you end up the victor," he added, with a sweeping glare of disapproval. "You know, a fair number of folk look down on professionals like myself; the mercenary class has never been particularly showered with respect. And while it's true that we aren't, perhaps, the most upstanding or noble the world has to offer, I do like to think we espouse at least one virtue in being rather upfront about our motivations. We don't hide behind shaky doctrines, laughably deluded causes, or bullshit half-baked philosophies. Really, if you want power or to just cause some mayhem, you really ought be honest and say so." As spiteful, accusatory, and actually quite heartfelt as Lang's words were, he did not stand there and point fingers purely for the sake of it; it was, true to his style, a delay and diversionary tactic, meant to hold the pair's attention for as long as possible so that Red could get into position and reinforcements had time to arrive. Such things only work for so long, however; Henry tired first, deploying another of his gas bombs to the ground. Lang at first tensed up in alarm, all too aware of the gas' effects, but something about it was off, being both a different color and apparently not so dangerous that the pair weren't willing to linger in it. He heard their feet, Henry's club foot in particular thumping on the paving stones as well as the distinct scraping of steel being drawn. Despite being the one with the sword, it was not Augusta that Lang was worried about. From her side, Red came pouncing from the darkness, latching onto the woman's head and delivering a series of painful bites that destroyed her balance and footwork. Though far from fatal, and not even all that painful, it allowed Lang to concentrate on the real threat in Henry, who was trying to get the backstab on him. He attempted a back stepping dodge from the short, though sharp, needles, but it never became apparent as to whether it was even needed. From the mist came yet more steel, though from a far more friendly source. His attack thwarted by Eileen, Henry too backed up to create some space before he was cut to ribbons. It was a shame none of them had any six-shooters, a set of stetson hats, or the ability to call the noon sun, otherwise they could have made a wonderful duel stood as they were in a tense rectangle. Lang shrugged and rolled his eyes away from Eileen and her looks. First Mortimer and now himself; she really wasn't all that accustomed to Grandline sights. "It isn't something I tend to flaunt, the reaction of folk new to this sea notwithstanding," he dryly commented while staring into the eyes of Augusta. She had successfully pried and flung Red from her head, and the small spider had quickly scurried back to crawl up Lang's body back to his shoulder where she sat hissing and baring her fangs. He licked his lips. "The plan had been to follow them to their hideout," he quietly murmured to Eileen. "But given how the cat is quite out of the bag, I suppose plan B is to try beat it out of them. At the very least until this street is watched with several dozen rifles." He would, however, rather not take that approach. Not that Lang wasn't confident in their ability to take Henry and Augusta down, especially since Eileen was by his side, but it didn't change the fact that they were putting themselves at risk, risk that could potentially be minimized. "Unless..." Lang called out, sweeping his gaze over both of them, puffing his chest out just slightly, and flexing the arms upon his back. "You two would like to surrender yourself. You've been found out and the whole island is nipping at your ankles. Whatever schemes you have are doomed to fail. Registered homeowners, I imagine? Any building even lightly associated with your names will be, as we speak, taken apart brick by brick. You've nowhere to run where you won't be caught. And that's even assuming you could get away from my friend and I. Save everyone the bruises, and yourselves a few years in prison, why don't you?" True, self-styled freedom fighters tended to be fanatic enough to happily die for whatever cause they doggedly followed, but it was worth a shot to try talk them down instead of beating them down. If nothing else it stalled for another few moments. Techniques |
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| ♦ SoIo | Jun 28 2017, 02:37 PM Post #44 |
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"Again, you misunderstand. Mayhem? Possibly. Kill in cold blood? No no no, I would never do that. Achieve power? I have no interest in that when instead I can make a statement. A statement that will forever change this island." So much dialogue happened within the span of a minute. She felt a slight bit of annoyance when Lang had seemingly dismissed her as being new to the Grand Line sea. Although he was justified to underestimate her, it didn't sit well with her. Though, how Lang proceeded to talk after had amazed her. It sounded so convincing and correct...almost as if she was drawn to his voice. Though, she quickly snapped out of it when Henry persisted to give his viewpoint. And judging by his tone, Henry was being insistent of how right he is, regardless of Lang's words. But it was quite...peculiar, his thoughts about the island almost similar to how Eileen felt. She wanted to know more. "What are you talking about?" Henry chuckled softly. "I assume you've been here long enough to see this island. Don't you see? The mourning for deaths? The lifestyle? The corruption you see around here? It's terrible. It's all a lie. We must reset the state of this island. And I can do that without killing a single individual." Now this piqued her interest. Though, she had her reserves as most bad guys are typically hard to believe when they reveal their plans (unlike most fictional fantasies). "Cut the crap already, Henry. Let's just get rid of these Marines and get out of here! We have a plan to execute!" "No...I must do something. But you're right, we'll attack." Eileen quickly went on the defensive as the two acted. Henry brought out his needles, obviously coated in apparent poison. Augusta brought out her brightly painted blade and the two weapons met with each other. Eileen widened her eyes as she saw a supernatural interaction happen between the two weapons. The paint from the blade resided onto the needles, while something oozing came out of the needle and went onto the painted blade. Another Devil Fruit power? Come to think of it, it's probably Augusta. There's a reason why her Wanted poster has the epithet "Chromatic Chameleon". Wait... Suddenly, Augusta drastically changed in color by suddenly painting herself. She quickly "disappeared" as if she became one with the background. Eileen widened her eyes as she quickly screamed out her 2 second deduction. "Lang! She must have infused Henry's poison into her blade! Be careful!" Although Augusta had disappeared to attack Lang, Henry on the other hand did not. He immediately lunged out an attack on Eileen, moving in a swift manner. Eileen readied her knife and was ready to meet her small blade against Henry's needles. However, a glint of surprise arose as she saw the needles to also be camouflaged by Augusta's power! That said, it wasn't as effective and Eileen was able to distinguish the weapon. Albeit it was a bit late, and she nearly parried Henry's attack by dipping her head back and directing the attack above her. Overwhelmed by the force of her assailant's attack, she fell to the ground while Henry passed by her. Though Eileen was taken aback by Henry's partially hidden needles, she was more focused on another recently discovered aspect. That attack felt...awfully familiar. Almost stylistically similar to my attacks! She quickly rose up from the ground and turned to face Henry. ...He doesn't have a bounty on his head, at least not yet. But he is certainly strong! Did he stay hidden for awhile to avoid notoriety? No...not possible, he's experienced. Definitely. What else could he be...? Unless... But before she could complete her thought, Henry once again launched another attack. Eileen curved her eyebrows as she decided to instead match Henry's attack. Jumping off one foot, she made her move against her opponent. This time, she focused on Henry's arm movements to better read his attack. She could tell Henry had more strength capability, but she had speed and agility as her advantages. Instead of intending to clash against Henry once they were within melee range of each other, Eileen altered her form of attack and lightly bounced Henry's attack off of her knife. With her momentum moving forward, she proceeded to deal a blow right to Henry's front knee.
Henry groaned in pain as he almost collapsed from his spot. Eileen curled her lips upward in success to her attack. However in response, Henry used his empty left hand and quickly caught Eileen by her shirt, becoming immobilized. She widened her eyes as she wasn't quick enough to react. Henry then turned to face her, using his right hand with his needles to deal out another attack. This time, she knew the attack was inevitable. Eileen was aware that the needles must contain some sort of poison, if not the same toxin as she and a couple of other Marines were inflicted with. If anything, the effects might be more extreme. Shit!
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I'm going to be less active as of 9/25/17. Kinda hitting a point where I'm contemplating why I'm here while having a full-time job. OPRP Character Builder Tool (Last Updated: June 2017) Eileen Falkner Jessabelle Adams Ray Solo PSA | |
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| ♥ Bright | Jul 4 2017, 03:07 PM Post #45 |
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Wannabe Writer
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"Without killing a single individual, save the spirit of the island itself," Lang coldly noted. "Even if you manage to go about your stupidity without spilling a single drop of blood, I'm not sure that really gives you the right to go murder an entire culture, simply because it doesn't agree with you. A lot of folk aren't overly fond of sprouts, I imagine, but I don't recall any righteous, holy crusades ever taking place against Greensland." He could respect common thieves more than those two. At least the former was simply looking out for their own interests; a trait Lang himself was intimately familiar with. Augusta and Henry, on the other hand, seemed to be interested in nothing short of a softer form of genocide. Given Augusta's daytime profession and her past works, it was especially disgusting to see her turn against a culture, any culture, in such a homicidal way. But turn on it she did, as she did Lang. He remained calm and composed as she readied her sword, as the pair of them exchanged support and then Augusta herself disappeared - no, faded, but not entirely - from view. "I'd maybe be something of a hypocrite to ask people to fight fair, but it would be nice, wouldn't it?" he replied at the mention of poison. At the very least the two sides were equal in number, with Henry opting to chase after Eileen while Augusta slunk around for a shot at Lang. He remained where he stood. Trying to track her visually, though not impossible, would be to willingly walk into disability. Instead, Lang focused his other senses. Augusta may have had the advantages of visual stealth, but her ability was largely artificial; a crutch, not a finely tuned or exercised leg, and she was against someone who knew at least the basics of remaining undetected. He could hear her breathing, her sloppy footwork on the loud cobbles, even smell faint traces of paint and perfume wafting from her clothes. True, Lang wasn't entirely used dealing with invisible foes, but listening was just as important to his line of work and preferred method of engagement as looking. He waited, he listened - and there! An audible tap as Augusta took a sudden step towards him from his right, sword swinging without much in the way of grace. Lang back stepped, and brought one of his long, spindly arms up from his side. It was a glancing blow, thrown without as much accuracy as he'd have liked, but it sent Augusta reeling all the same. Invisible footsteps clattering on the ground accompanied by a muffled grunt as the wind temporarily left her. "Not to boast, but you're dealing with a professional here, Augusta. I've put bigger names away and the scars to prove it. Come quietly and they might even be able to forget the fact that you're resisting arres-" "Do you ever shut up?!" Bingo. Augusta realized her mistake too late; a string of web was already flung in the direction of her voice. She tried to step out of its way, but was a little too slow and the web found its grip on her sword. Like she had tripped on a treadmill, Augusta did the silly thing and kept a hold of the weapon rather than letting go. She, and the sword, were suddenly picked up and thrown through the air much like Henry had been, and slammed in the wall of a surrounding house. When she tried to pick the sword - and her arm - up again, they met a tug of resistance, and she glanced to her left in horror to see both pinned by the remaining web. "You're not a criminal, Augusta. You're an artist. Stop trying to switch professions; I've seen your work. The whole island has. They love you, you know. Or, at least, a sweet old lady called Hope does." The paint began to wear off, revealing a wobbling lip and wet eyes. "And that's why I need to do this, why me and Henry- This island, this life, it's awful. How you seen it? Them? The children?! We're going to free them, the people, everyone from their own stupid culture!" Lang sighed, shrugged. He knelt down, just out of reach of her flailing limbs. "That's what we have art for, Augusta. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't go trying to murder me or my partner over it. Right, Red?" Try to the spider's nature, she was hopping and biting and just generally being a great nuisance. In this instance, it was at Henry. Having been shook off by Augusta, Red had turned her attention to the great handsome man with the club foot - and trying to ensure that Eileen didn't end up with a vein full of poison. She jumped first at his balding head and then crawled, nibbling all the way, down to his club foot. Tech |
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1:45 AM Jul 11