+-- Terrence Kennard (SingularByte) --+
You head down the stairs just as Liz finishes ringing Joe up, and the police officer heads out the door. You don't catch him to say goodbye, but instead set about to moving the painting into the backroom. It's tough work, considering the painting and the easel are both large enough to be carried separately and you've a cane, but Liz helps you out with the easel.
As you carefully pick up the painting, you realize how incredibly detailed it is. It's almost photographic: You can't even find any lines to indicate brush strokes.
As you return from the back room, your mind continues to wander back to the painting and its creator.
+-- Charlene "Charlie" Tanner (Deep Waters) --+
(699240(3),16(0))
You make your way through the room, keeping an eye out for the woman you saw the other night. No dice. You don't see her, or anyone that looks even vaguely like her, anywhere. But you do notice a few people who you think may have been with her. All things considered, though, you're not too sure. They're sitting at a table by the bar, in the corner, smoking cigarettes and talking over their drinks.
You approach the bar and hesitate for a moment before ordering a drink. When none of the men standing around bother to do so for you (even the bar tender doesn't seem to notice you), you call the bartender over and order a bottle of whatever brew you drink.
+-- Michael "Angel" Raguel (Filiusenox) --+
(40588711427(3))
You continue to converse with Marissa as she drives you home, casually throwing in the occasional joke. Witty or not, she laughs. By the time you reach your street, it quickly becomes apparent that she's taken a liking to you. As she pulls up in front of your apartment, you notice nothing out the ordinary. The moving van from earlier is gone.
Johnatan "Sparkly" Spark (Shadenight123)
You were transferred from Vice to Homicide just a few years ago. It's a fairly cushy job, and, surprisingly, you see a lot less of humanity's dark side here. There are still some really sick people out there, though. People with no remorse, no regard for human life. This is the story of one such person, their victims, and the Detective who will bring them to justice. This is your story.
The time is 7:23pm, the place is the Charles River, on the Cambridge side. Your squad car pulls up along the side of the road, and you get out just as Officer Gomez rushes up to you.
"Detective," he speaks quickly, his voice quavering slightly,
"We've already got forensics here, but they're not touching anything till you're on the scene. I'll lead the way, it's just down by the bank."Hirov Ferrin (Phantom of the Library)
You arrived yesterday, and immediately collapsed into your bed, the victim of a serious bout of jet lag. It isn't until about noon today that you awake, mouth dry and stomach rumbling, in your motel, courtesy of the organization running this little Cryptid Hunting convention. You're pretty sure they have some sort of connection with the History Channel, which means there will be quite a few nuts and skeptics about, but that won't stop you from meeting up with the rest of the Society.
The meeting's not till Wednesday, though, and today is Monday. You could see the sights, get drunk, or even look into rumors of urban cryptids (the colleague who conjectured their existence believes they can be found anywhere a sizable human population can be), or whatever else. What do you do?
+-- Noemi Schor (RogueArchivist) --+
You hunker down atop the roof. It's going to be quite a while.
Several hours pass. The heat of the midday sun beats down on you, and then fades, giving away to freezing winds. Your stomach grumbles, and your cheeks and nose go numb in the wind, reminding you that you should have better prepared for a stake-out. You almost doze off once or twice from boredom, but the lack of a comfortable place to be precludes that.
At some point the moving van leaves, a little later a young girl, a teenager by the looks of it- and pretty at that- approaches and enters the building. Just as the sun is beginning to set, a red ford Taurus pulls up.
+-- Elizabeth "Liz" Karsten (Hailfire) --+
You answer Joe and ring him up. He gives you a short nod, mumbles a goodbye, and heads out the front door. You begin to search for the missing notes, but your eyes are drawn to the painting once more. It looks almost like a photograph, you realize, but it still is somehow clearly a painting. There's something surreal about it...
Terrence comes down the stairs just as the door swings shut behind Joe, and enlists your aid in moving the painting into a closet in the backroom. You pick up the easel while he, struggling with his injured leg and his cane, carries the painting. It doesn't take long, all told, and the rest of the work day looks to be relatively boring.
I don't have anything else planned for the shop today, so if you'd both like you're free to simply gloss over the rest of the workday and move on to whatever else you'd like/what I have next planned in your next post.
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Topic: Welcome to The Hub: A World of Darkness Forum Game (Waitlist Open) (Read 11037 times)