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Today at 09:01 am
When the man at the desk tried to stop her entourage, she put him to sleep without so much as a change of facial expression. It was almost dawn, so people were already starting to wake. They stared at her procession, but she kept the same noble bearing as she had the whole way. She did not care what they thought. Lions do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep.

A portion of her entourage would use the contraption with her, while the rest took the stairs. Her procession intimidated others and made them wary of her. She liked that. It reminded her of her younger days,when she first became head of the Crow estate. The people challenged her. She never hurt any of them, but slowly gained their trust, subverted her opposition, and eventually was no longer challenged as Lady of High Moor. This would be different, but she wanted this area to be safe for Prince Colquitt. She already had plans on how she'd accomplish this, and she would let nothing stop her now.

The contraption doors would open, and the servants waiting at the door would join with her entourage as they proceeded towards their lodgings. Hopefully, he had remembered to keep the door unlocked. Otherwise, she would simply "knock" it open, as she had the caskets of her servants, though their uniforms insured that it should never be obvious this is the case.

They'd proceed in. The morning light was beginning to shine through the open window. Unless something unnatural was occurring, the presence of dawn would have forced Prince Colquitt to retreat to his room, so she'd immediately gesture with orders to her servants, rather than inform him of her arrival. Two would guard the front door, two would the door to his room. A couple took seats in sight of the front door, so they could assist in any confrontations that occurred. One, with bones that suggested the person was heavier set, would stand in the kitchen. The rest she split into pairs and would send to patrol the area, seeking to stop any thuggery that occurred, armed with concealed kitchen knives.

Finally, the last remaining pair would be given her cred' stick. She'd speak openly to Lachdanan, for the clever bird could mimic her voice. She'd given him instructions on what to buy to stock the house with food. While he could not speak, he could mimic the sound of hers, which was enough to control the two servants once she had instructed them of such. She hadn't eaten in over a day now, and the discomfort was unpleasant and distracting. It was moments like these she longed for the ability to sleep.

She'd seen others dining down below, but despite her posturing she was aware she was currently a squatter. That would change eventually, but for now she would have to wait for her servant's return.

In the mean time, she set the two idle servants to the task of cleaning their home, and shutting the open window, while she began the task of studying the book he had given her. The spells were of varying levels of complexity, but she was not reading the spells, per say. Instead, she was paying greater attention to how they were crafted. She'd had proper arcane training, and while she specialized in the study of Necromancy, gaining knowledge to better vanquish undead in the name of the Raven Queen, she knew enough not just to cast a spell, but to understand what each line and symbol meant to the construction of a spell, so as to identify its purpose.

In this case, many of these spells were vastly different than the ones she knew, and many would be abominable to Aunt Raven. For now, she would not concern herself with the details of ideology and ethics. Instead, this allowed her to gleam into the way the world worked, at least in the context of those who created this book. More interesting still was the existence of a primordial curse, and the fact it caused effects comparable to the vampirism of her native plane. She wondered at the sort of legends Prince Colquitt's people had, if such a curse was applicable to all its people.

Eventually, the discomfort of her hunger would grow too great to concentrate, and when the servants arrived with food she'd quickly cook toast in the oven, once she figured out the dials upon it (having no concept of a toaster) as her "chef" prepared a proper meal. Once the bread was crisp, she'd apply a thin layer of butter before slathering it with pomegranate jelly and consume it ravenously.

She longed for a second, but it would not do to give into gluttony while supper was being prepared. Instead she'd find a place to sit and rest. While she did not sleep, much had happened the past couple of days, and she needed time to process and reflect upon it. Since she could no longer rely on her subconscious doing so in her sleep, she had to instead occasionally take pause and think through her experiences in order to process them properly. She wasn't completely absent from the world as she did so, and would order the cleaning servants to act as kitchenhands as dinner was being prepared. The smell of it cooking would whet her hunger, and she'd eaten very little despite the treat she'd made to break her fast.

It was a hearty stew of potatoes, herbs, fresh greens, Queen Anne's Lace, tomato, and cooked poultry. It was given strong helpings of cheese, and, after realizing her cook was inept at doing so, Lady Crow would season the boiling meal herself, irritated to have stopped her rest prematurely, and do a servant's labor. It appeared she'd underestimated this one's talents, despite its figure. It appeared to be more likely it was a fat merchant than chef in its previous life. Shame.

She'd have to make a book of recipes to ensure her servants would make proper meals, until she'd procured a talented chef. She feared it would grow tedious having the same meals every day, but better to have consistently good meals than be surprised by bad ones.

It would not take long before some of her servants were already returning with tears in their uniforms, or more significant structural damage. She'd mend the ones who needed it, and have them replace the kitchenhands as they began to patrol. The boots and gloves they wore were unfitted. She could tailor the gloves to their hands, once she had time, but she'd have to measure their feet and send both the boots and their dimensions to a cobbler to get the boots fitted. Their coats were small on some, and large on others. Their pants were barely adequate, or large enough that the provided belts were all that kept their secrets from being exposed. The trademark masks, with beaks to signify they belonged to House Crow, gave them the appearance of being at a masquerade. Considering the secrets they kept, she supposed they were.

Either way, it appeared the streets were rough, and she'd have a lot of work to do to bring order. However, both she and her servants were tireless. It would be done.

As supper neared completion, and the sun began to set, Carolyn would set the candles upon the dining room table after adorning it with a table cloth. She'd sit at the end of the table furthest from his room, and wait with more than a little giddiness at the proposition of it opening. There was till much to discuss, and the night's talk would mostly be business, but perhaps now he trusted her enough that she could finally trust him in return: a proposition that made her heart flutter with butterflies.
Jan 15 2018, 05:56 PM
Robert hadn't been kidding. The questioning had taken a while. He'd maintained his excellent customer service demeanor the whole time, and hadn't taken his advice to blame it on "wizards". While he was pretty sure he hadn't been kidding, the idea still seemed silly to the young man that came from a world without magic.

He had a credit stick in his pocket, and had been given this place's equivalent of a PAD, which he was using to navigate to his new home. The glow it produced was in stark contrast to the darker streets of this area. He had no idea why there were so few lights.

"Hey, new blood."

His blood ran cold, and his hair began to stand on end. The tone of his voice was all too familiar. Things were going south quickly.

"Looks like you're trying to find your new home, huh? Mind if I take a look?"

A large arm reached over him towards his PAD. He'd pull it to his chest, and quickly turn away from the arm.

"Come now, don't be like that." The other hand began feeling up his pants, quickly feeling his cred' stick. He began to try and reach his hand into the pocket, "I'm just trying to help a guy out."

He'd shove an elbow into the guy's gut, and attempt to sprint before another arm appeared from a dark alley to the right of where he attempted to escape. He fell to the ground, hitting it hard. He was dazed, but could faintly make out the figures of two large men looming over him.

"Shoulda done this the easy way." He saw a menacingly large boot rise above his head. He closed his eyes and flinched as it began to fall towards his demise.
Jan 1 2018, 12:19 PM


Name/Aliases: Lady Carolyn Crow

Age: 29

Gender/Pronouns: Lady

Physical: She is a tall woman, standing over 6'0. She carries herself with perfect posture, ingrained into her from the strict discipline of upbringing. Her clothes are kept in good repair, and worn to accentuate her majestic figure. She's not a cute woman, and some might even argue not beautiful, but the grace, absolute confidence, and unshakable will of this woman gives her a memorable impact on all who see her. None would ever question her station.

Her hair is something of a mystery. At birth she was a bright, redhaired babe, yet as she grew older her hair would grow darker and darker until it was as black as night. She's long since cut the fiery ends, but secretly stores them in a secret place in her home as a reminder of her youth.

Her dark eyes are intense in their gaze. While she will look upon familiar lands with an almost dreary, weary expression, when she looks upon a person it has been said it is not as if she looks at you, but in you.

Mental: She's a proper, well-spoken woman. She carries herself well. That being said, she has a tendency to be curt, and does not mince words. He has no use for idle small-talk beyond making introductions. She's direct, to the point, and goal-oriented. For a woman who never sleeps, she does not appreciate her time being wasted, and can become rather irritable when inconvenienced. Perhaps true to her color of hair at birth, she can have a fiery temper unbecoming the cold demeanor of her station. She's known to be very well read, and quite knowledgeable on a surprising number of subjects. Her skill at diplomacy is nothing to be discounted either. Her calm poise leaves an impression, and her comfort with command and unwavering will make her an effective leader.

Supernatural: Her divine spark sometimes rewrites events in her favor, turning failure into success. Her tutelage under Aunt Raven taught her the art of curses and hexes, and when she finally sealed her pact, her Aunt removed her need for sleep, and gave her a Tome through which they could correspond now that dreams were no longer a suitable medium. Finally, as Lady Crow came to understand more of her Aunt's will and purpose, she began studying the Necromantic arts in order to better facilitate the destruction of any such beings who offended her beloved Aunt.

She also has conjured a celestial familiar who takes the form of her beloved raven, Lachdanan (whom she calls Lach for short). When she calls upon it, her Phantom Steed mare, Shadow, is her mount of preference.

In addition to the above, she is an accomplished user of magic who draws from a plethora of backgrounds and sources in order to facilitate her wide variety of magical talents. Her list of known spells includes:

The Cantrips:

Booming Blade
Chill Touch
Dancing Lights
Eldritch Blast
Fire Bolt
Friends
Guidance
Mage Hand
Mending
Message
Minor Illusion
Mold Earth
Prestidigitation
Shape Water
Shillelagh
Shocking Grasp

Spells of the First Circle:

Absorb Elements
Alarm (Ritual)
Bless
Feather Fall
Find Familiar (Ritual)
Fog Cloud
Grease
Hellish Rebuke
Hex
Magic Missile
Shield
Sleep
Tenser's Floating Disk
Sanctuary

Spells of the Second Circle:

Darkness
Knock
Hold Person
Mind Spike
Mirror Image
Misty Step
Scorching Ray
Shatter

Spells of the Third Circle:

Animate Dead
Bestow Curse
Counterspell
Dispel Magic
Fireball
Fly
Hunger of Hadar
Leomund's Tiny Hut
Mass Healing Word
Nondetection
Phantom Steed

Spells of the Fourth Circle:

Greater Invisibility

Spells of the Fifth Circle:

Geas
Greater Restoration

Background: Lady Crow was born with a divine spark within her. Her family took it as the magical manifestation of her divine right to rule, and groomed her for leadership from a young age.

However, though there had been legends of such prodigies in their family's past, none remembered the why of their source of power. See their ancestry could be traced back to a relation (cousin or sibling perhaps) of the Sorcerer-Queen who would eventually become known as the Raven Queen. Indeed, it was the same divine spark that now resides within Lady Crow.

As she grew older, she began to feel drawn to the remnants of a weapon that was her family heirloom. It tugged at the back of her mind, like like little whispers, beckoning her; inviting her to approach. One day, irked by the incessant entreating that only she could hear, she'd pull down the shattered remants from where they sat upon the mantle above the fireplace, and open the display that contained it.

The voices were cacophonus at first, and it was all she could do to supress the scream that would alert the manor something was amiss. A sea of voices all crying out discordantly to take up their offer. She'd cover her ears, but the sounds did not deafen as they seemed to scream from within her own head.

Suddenly, they'd all go silent, and a single, beautiful, powerful voice spoke, "Why hello, my dear. It seems we have much to talk about."

Since that day she was secretly under the tutelage of the Raven Queen, whom she dubbed "Aunt Raven" (to give her her proper title would require a tiresome number of Greats, and would be quite rude). She became obsessed with her "Aunt", making contracts that stripped away her freedom and life, even as her Aunt imbued her with knowledge and power.

Her power grew, and she began to utilize means of questionable morality in securing her estate. Beings who showed no skin, and who produced no breath in winter, began patrolling her lands, guarding her manor, and watching her subjects. Her horse, when she was seen riding, appeared unnatural. Rumors began to spread that something was wrong with Lady Crow.

Then the one who had been her most outspoken dissenter would suddenly speak her praises abruptly, and many would be swayed, while the few skeptics remaining would be invited to her manor, and return with a far more positive outlook on their liege lady.

The lands held many secrets, and none who opposed her did so for long, yet none of her subjects ever suffered violence, and eventually came to accept that, by wicked means or no, Lady Crow would keep them safe.

Notes: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ASBKEwQ4b4...TTZ0F1_nhY/view (If you're interested in what she'd look like as a D&D character if your friend with good luck rolled 15, 16, 16, 16, 16, 18 for her starting stats. These sorts of stats are why I advocate for Point Buy every time.)
Dec 10 2017, 03:13 PM
He was getting hungry, and no one had come to attend to him since he'd woken. He'd rise, not feeling as bad as he had the days before when he'd been beaten. He should be fine to talk.

He staggered across the room, feeling the sanitary cold of the regulated hospital air chilling his exposed backside. He had no idea where his clothes were. He'd open the door, and look into the hall to deathly silence. The experience was uncanny, like something out of a horror movie, and he briefly wondered if he was dreaming.

No, the uncomfortable cold of his feet against the tile was all too real, nor would his imagination bring the dull aches of his muscles into such clarity. Something seemed off, but he could not be sure. It was possible his insurance had been declined, and he'd been moved to a cheaper facility; one with a shortage of staff, apparently.

There was a dull hum to the florescent bulbs above as his bare feets smacked against the waxed, tile floor. He was keenly aware of his exposed backside, and looked with the many vacant rooms for some article of clothing with which to cover himself. He feared how it might look if he were to eventually leave the hospital in such a fashion. He probably could not afford the ticket for public indecency, and may not live to have another hospital visit besides. After all, peace is maintained through fear.

He came to the end of the hall to find the elevator there indicated he was one floor from the ceiling. Odd. Well, it explained his prior musings of terminal velocity, but he really should be getting home. It's not that his mother would worry, but the neighbors might complain if she begins to stink from a chronic unchanged diaper.

He'd press the button and the whine of cables and the rumbling of a shaking elevator room. It was a bit unnerving, but it was probably just an old elevator. It didn't appear to be in too bad of shape when the doors opened, and after a cursory glance inside, decided the risk was worth not having to try and climb down the dozens of floors on foot. He'd push the button for the ground floor, and the heavy doors would close ominously before beginning its descent.

The sound he'd heard before was magnified from within the room, and the shaking had him on the verge of panic. His mind began to contemplate the sensation of falling, and he'd cling desperately to the handle bars located within. He felt like he was going to be sick, and was second guessing his decision not to endure the stairs.

It surprised him that no one else pinged for the elevator, and after over thirty floors they'd finally arrived at their destination.

The doors would open, and the hall was just as silent and empty as the one before. It didn't seem right. He'd make his way down the halls, now following the directional signs to where it indicated the entrance was. Surely someone would have to be there to sign in patients.

That's when he saw it, hanging in one of the countless vacant rooms he'd passed: another piece of attire like his own. He'd peek into the room to find it empty, and then close the door behind him. He'd peel the sheet from his skin and replace it, not covering the back and exposing the front. He'd follow up with the second, covering his front. Finally, after a quick search of the shelves, would grab a pair of hair nets and place them on his feet as makeshift shoes. It was far from ideal, but it was the best he could muster.

He'd emerge more comfortable, if not any warmer, and head towards the entrance. Surely there'd be someone there to explain the strange situation he'd woken to.
Dec 10 2017, 09:13 AM
Name/Aliases: Bobby "Bubbles" Baker

Age: 29

Gender/Pronouns: "He/Him, but if you see the cute little kitty clip in my hair and say the wrong thing, I'm gonna go totally ballistic about how you just assumed my gender!"

"Just kidding! That'd be stupid. Mistakes are made, and being mistaken for a girl is kind of a compliment sometimes? It makes me feel pretty, and gets my heart racing. Maybe I'm worthy of being a princess too? Heh, too bad they never write stories of dames rescuing princes. Guess no one's going to kill the dragon and same me from this tower."

Physical: "See this boring, dirty blonde mess on my head? Great for dying colors, not that I ever got the chance. Got a couple cute stud earrings. I could never afford to finish the actual planned piercings. My face is cute enough, I guess, but with raccoon eyes like these, you'd think my wife beats me. I don't get a lot of food, so I'm abit on the skin-and-bones side. My love of cute accessories has a lot of judgment thrown my way, and a few flirtations from other guys besides. I'm straight (enough). I just want to like what I see in the mirror. Somehow, I just forgot that somewhere along the way."

Mental: "You know that feeling you get in your eyes when you've slept too little, and you wake up to that burning sensation? Yeah, I'd grown numb to that. Worked two jobs just to keep the lights on for my family, and for what?"

"No... I know better than to be like that. She's not gonna show up if I'm so negative all the time. Still, day in and day out, I worked, and I worked, and I worked, and we were always living paycheck to paycheck. Can't afford that food, too expensive. Can't have that nice thing, can't afford it. My whole life was the act of sustaining. I'd gone numb to it, gotten used to it, and honestly couldn't imagine a life outside of it."

"Then one day, I was brushing my teeth, looking with eyes I could no longer feel burning at my reflection in the mirror, finding some secret pride in the darkness and depth of my 'raccoon eyes' when I stopped. When was the last time I had a date planned? When was the last time I'd even talked to a woman? I never finished getting the piercings on my ears. I never..."

"The thoughts came like a flood, and I was crying. Ended up going to the hospital instead for broken fingers and a need to have the glass extracted. I lied and told them I got excited and did a fist pump, misjudging how far I was from the window. I don't know if they bought it, or just didn't care. I had plenty of holiday time saved up, and decent insurance. I just wouldn't get any overtime. Surely I'm due a day off, right? No one is going to starve because I didn't work through lunch and stay as late as I could without being late for my second job."

"Right?"

"I rode the subway down towards the part of town I went to school, before my dad left and my mom overdosed on drugs. She didn't die, though some days I wonder if it'd been better if she had. - I hate myself. - I mean, she's a burnout. The medicine to keep her from tweaking is expensive. She doesn't do anything but sit there. She may not be looking like she's having a seizure, but there aren't even two marbles left to rub together in the ballpen upstairs. I tried not getting her medication once, but her tweaking made me sick, and the guilt wasn't worth the extra change in my pocket."

"Why? Why did Dad leave us for some older woman and a promotion? Why is Mom so weak that she spent her savings on a Fadeaway addiction until she burned out? Why am I stuck here picking up the pieces for a life shattered I had no part in breaking?"

"I tried not to let these thoughts of bitterness in most days. What good would it do? Not like I was going to just quit."

"It was revelatory. I can quit. I took off my tie, and threw it out the window. I didn't even care. A guard came up to me, and demanded I pay a fine. I went to flip him off, only to raise the hand in the cast that wouldn't let me bend my fingers. I laughed at myself. He thought I was laughing at him. He hit me. I screamed. He hit me some more."

"Two hospital visits in one day. Lucky me. Now I have an excuse not to go to my next job. Looks like I'll have a few days of vacation. Lucky me."

"Oh, and for littering, and failure to pay a fine, I have community service! Because I have so many fricking hours in the day to do that, right?"

"Sometimes, I look out the window from my hospital bed, and see how small the world looks down there, and just hope it's terminal velocity if I take a short cut. When did my life get so mixed up?"

"Well, I guess I was only getting a test run of craziness, because one day I woke up, and the hospital wasn't the same, and outside wasn't the same, and my comm' device wouldn't work, and in my head a little voice mocked, 'Dorothy, you're not in Kansas anymore.'"

Supernatural: "Hah! I can't even afford a Supernatural disc set!"

Background: "Normal kid, normal school, normal family, normal life, too interested in girly things, people think it's 'Alright. Alright. Alright.', grow up, think I get to go to school, Dad leaves for a promotion and second wife, Mom leaves for wherever people go after their brains are fried by drugs, I'm left with her stupid, shaking body and a sense of responsibility I can't seem to shake. Pretty stupid, huh? It's not like I did any Fadeaway. Where would I even go? I never got to live before my soul died a wage slave. I sometimes wonder where the drugs took her, before she left the building vacant like Elvis."

"No. Not like Elvis. She still eats, and he didn't have a diaper to catch his mess. I guess no one had to change his diaper though."

Notes: <insert drawing of a cute kitten here> "Daaaawww!"
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