multiversallogs | Entries tagged with npc

Who: The Militia, the city, and you.
What: The Arena Riots.
Where: The Arena, Griss Twist.
When: Newdi, Eliaderen 1. (Monday Oct 1st)
Notes: Companion post for questions and plotting is here.
Warnings: Violence, police brutality, disturbing content and imagery, graphic death.

It's apparent even before dawn that something out of the ordinary is happening. Canton sheriffs are roused from their sleep or pulled away from their work to be told that on no uncertain terms, today will be a day that they do not leave their neat lines on the map. That their individual offices will be responsible for all crime and unrest within their jurisdictions, with no help; the powers that be offer no details, but the creeping feeling in their presence suggests no questions would be tolerated anyway – the implication that they'll all be watched is a strong one. In Mog Hill, Sheriff Norrington proceeds as he always does under such orders. In Mafaton, leadership is stoic but one deputy laughs, sharp and bitter, while the Emissary of the Council merely checks his watch, unseen underground. Sir Hellsing is pulled away from her dinner in the Guild Hall, a Sobek Croix deputy anxiously relaying the news. The sound of shattered glass disturbs the pre-dawn silence in Flyside, a brick hurled by some faceless figure into the front window of Thames – and nothing else.

From the Spire, hooded Militiamen move quietly and uniformly south, to Griss Twist. They are followed by wagons, full of prisoners.

exterrorist

Who: Kalenedral, John, and Jacqueline
What: hi welcome to Baedal here's your complimentary fruit basket
Where: the Valhalla Inn
When: some time after Njoki lets Kalenedral out of the arrival room
Notes: n/a
Warnings: does not actually contain a fruit basket

Well, that was definitely a day. Checking out schools and places to live near those schools is sort of tiresome to begin with, and having to drag Jacqueline with him isn't fun for either of them. She misses her mom, and John misses Ana's competence. They both have strong independent streaks, but John is used to being on his own and only taking care of himself, while Ana had to raise her younger sister and is actually a good parent.

Something from lunch today made Jacqueline feel sick. She had to go barf in a women's restroom while John tried not to wring his hands, and now they're back at the Inn early; fortunately, Jacqueline had perked back up on the way and seems fine again. John is trying to tell himself that you can't take a kid to the doctor every time they throw up, then wondering if that still applies in Baedal, where there could be fifty million new diseases. But everybody's a transplant and the city isn't overcome with a new disease every other month, so there must be something at work, here. But what if! But that's ridiculous, calm down —

He has to stop short to not run into Jacqueline, who was walking ahead of him and had just passed the common room.

"Dad dad there is a thing in there," she hisses with exactly that lack of punctuation, and John has had a careful talk with her about xenians and people who look different from the people she's accustomed to seeing, and she knows about mutants anyway, so a 'thing' must be something very unusual indeed.

"Not a thing," he reminds her, taking her hand. "Let's go see. We can say hi."

Still, he's cautious in escorting her into the common room, prepared to see a non-humanoid entity of some sort — a thirty something, scruffy-looking man with a neck tattoo and a solemn-faced seven year old girl with red rain boots.

caballero

Who: Bruce, Logan, Jason, and some friendly NPCs (no).
What: The Militia enacts a brutal raid, and your friendly neighborhood wanted terrorists interrupt it. This goes about as well as it sounds like it would.
Where: Flag Hill (west side)... for now.
When: A few days after the Militia announcement.
Notes: This is another one of those incidents that's going to get snagged by the media blackout and never reported on, but we're well past the point of no return with word-of-mouth about civilian-Militia skirmishes.
Warnings: Violence, police brutality. Samm's icon choices.

( leaders speak, movements cease. )

exterrorist

Who: Charles Xavier, John Allerdyce, and NPC Jacqueline Travieso
What: hi professor this is my spawn i am very sorry about erik please give me a job
Where: Madrasati
When: the Thursday after they spoke
Notes: FYI. Also, anybody who works at Madrasati is welcome to join in, if you feel so moved (PYRO CR IS SO ENTICING I KNOW >_>). Just start a new thread.
Warnings: n/a

It's been awkward, of course. John has little idea of what it takes, day to day, to raise a kid, even one as undemanding as Jacqueline. Just because she doesn't demand his attention, however, doesn't mean she has no need of it, or wouldn't appreciate it. He's not sure what the balance between attentiveness and smothering is, but under the circumstances, erring on the side of the first seems better than the other way around.

She did cry the first night without her mom. It's the first time he's ever really tried to comfort her since she was a baby. He can't be much of a reassurement, but he's better than nothing. He's at least somewhat familiar.

Today, she is interested in the El Train and its procession from Mog Hill to Echomire, peering out the window, examining other passengers, and occasionally giving her new red rain boots a casual but deliberate swing. Ana has never been much for restricting Jacqueline's clothing choices, apart from the safety concerns, and John doesn't intend to be either. Rain boots are practical, as far as he's concerned. And if she wants to wear a maroon... jumper dress thing with a many-pocketed vest, well, fine. Whatever. She's warm, pockets are very practical, it's Baedal, no one cares.

The Madrasati building is sort of old English gloomy, even though it's not terribly overcast today. John conscientiously holds Jacqueline's hand as they proceed up the path. He's not nervous, only concerned, or so he tells himself; there's a low level jitteriness in his mind, a controlled tension in his body and the way he moves, but he's careful with Jacqueline's hand. Jacqueline herself is a bright streak of active awareness, taking in the shrubbery and the house layout with equal curiosity. She is not accustomed to holding hands with an adult anymore but is tolerant of it for John's sake, dimly aware of the meaningfulness behind the gesture as much as the physical comfort it gives both of them.

civilobedience

Who: The Militia, and the citizens of Baedal.
What: Moments in time.
Where: All around the city.
When: Over the course of this week.
Notes: This post is the activity mentioned here - there were enough volunteers to do asides tailored to specific volunteer characters, but if you'd like to have your character witness something in here, or hear about something after the fact and react to it, you are more than free to. Just keep in mind that these are for read-and-react, not confrontations: if your character picks a fight they will be arrested. These are examples of normal events that happen every day in Baedal.
Warnings: Bigotry, xenophobia, harassment, references to police brutality, endless creepy patronizing bullshit.

Day in and day out, the Militia has a presence in Baedal. Many are plain-clothed officers, watching, waiting. In times of strife, more and more uniformed agents appear amongst the citizens, reminding Baedal that she is protected. (That she is ruled.) For most, this is simply the way things are, and always have been – if you follow the rules, and if you shun those who don't, your life is unaffected. Maybe you decide not to vote because your heart doesn't match up to what's expected of you. Maybe you keep your eyes on your feet and keep walking past a hooded authority figure matched against a defenseless civilian. Maybe you are saved, and your ardor is won forever.

It's different for everyone.

baedalites

Who: Horrid sky-cnidaria and you
What: A couple days of gently drifting, but hungry, frands.
Where: All over the city.
When: Misdi night and throughout the next couple days.
Notes: Jump in, battle some critters, get eaten, whatever pleases you.

As the first of the pre-dawn light filtered over the city, the wind shifted.

The first funk of spring in a busy city is swept away by a strong norwest'er of sharply salt-scented air from the sea. Intermingled with this weather front, is a large, drifting cloud of giant, gas-filled predatory siphonophores. These creatures, looking like giant versions of their earthly cousins, drift and move with the wind and blow in over the city proper. They will remain hovering over the city until the wind shifts them back out to sea. Once the glowing lights of the siphonophores are spotted by sailors out on the edge of Raven's Gate, the alarm is raised back on land and a message is sent out to all citizens.

They hunt by drifting along, lowering arms lined with poisonous barbs and flickering lights, paralyzing their prey and then lifting their insensate meals up to large, gastric bells for digestion.

Fire wards off and wounds the creatures and puncturing their gas floats can bring one of the beasts crashing down. Still, they are a resilient lot and over the next few days, there will be a dramatic reduction of feral urban animals. Sheriffs and the Militia will be out in force, working to secure the city and protect the citizentry.

baedalites

Who: Hellboy and ???
What: The final stop on a scenic tour of Baedal's sewer system.
Where: Baedal Below
When: Sukkardi Evening
Warnings:Nothing yet? Mild horror and biomedical ick.

Deep under Baedal, far away from the 'civilized' Undercity, past the wild mushroom farms and their curious minders, lies mile after mile of tunnels. Layers of construction from previous iterations of the city, catacombs, abandoned (and probably never used) metro stations, natural and unnatural caves and corridors. Should one go searching through these tunnels, perhaps tracking shoggoths at the behest of Hellsing, one will eventually find a rather large and reinforced door in the tunnel wall. It looks much newer than the actual tunnel, and one may surmise that it's a later installation.

Certainly, it's large enough for a shoggoth to squeeze through and right now, it's open and appears undamaged. Dim artificial light spills out through the opening. There is a buzz of malfunctioning electricity and the dripping of liquid. Something sounds like it's groaning in there.

Beyond the door is a huge room. Whoever designed it went to great lengths to minimize the sound pollution, as there is almost no echo in here. At one point it must have been brightly lit but now the chief illumination comes from a lone worklight over a desk and a fusebox that's giving off sparks. It smells strongly of chemicals and blood. The lumpy forms of two dead people lie off to the side. One man, one woman. Both human. They appear to have been electrocuted, though the man was stabbed some time before that. There are at least two other doors in here.

baedalites

Who: Curious first gen youth, temple personnel, sundry
What: A visit to a temple, a ritual witnessed
Where: Eliandre's Temple in Griss Twist
When: Presumably in the afternoon
Notes: A temple scene was requested
Warnings: Risk of Zen philosophy, death may be referenced

The gods of Baedal, though often elusive, hold a great amount of power and influence - not least through the people who pay them tribute. It may be subtle but it's always there, or that's what people claim; prayers answered, favours granted, vengeance exacted. There are many public temples in the city and more, presumably, that are closed off to visitors. Temple folk are a common sight on the streets.

As her dominions bid, Eliandre is a god of many temples and great complexity. Justice is never simple and though it shouldn't be, death often is. Her home in Griss Twist is one of the larger temples in the city as it harbours the Hush, an old atrium garden. It's big enough to keep tall knotted trees and more humble specimens. There is even a pond for koi fish and some more unique creatures. Its caretakers are often older people, retired from a life spent in the presence of death. They never speak; talking is strictly prohibited inside of the Hush.

Outside is a different matter through it rarely gets loud. The décor is an exercise contrasts, black and bone white tile covers the floor. There are places to sit, some comfortable while others appear less so. Black offering bowls filled with white teeth stand on an altar by the wall, not really in focus. There is always a votary and some novices about to field and advise visitors or supplicants. There are ordinators too, figures that keep to the background dressed in solid black or solid white. They don't bother anyone who does not need to be bothered.

At the moment, the place has an energy to it, the feel of something happening. A small group of people look have gathered around a woman with xenian features. She's older, the fur on her pointed and notched ears going snowy. The group seems very amiable, a little eager perhaps for the woman's taste to be fawning over her but she bears it with grace. It's a procession of sorts, heading towards the Hush.

baedalites

Who: The gods and an unexpected guest.
What: A glimpse of what else is out there.
When: Sukkardi, the edge of dusk.
Notes: As dictated in the SOTG, following this event, there will be no more monsters arriving in the city. There may be some remaining, however. Feel free to back or forward-date as you like.

The gods make good progress on the sky, all things considered. They have faith in their cohorts, especially this newest one, and can focus the whole of their considerable attentions on repairing the reality of their little world itself. One large tear remains toward the northern skies, showing a great burning white glow. Its position over the ocean means that it has been left last; most of the creatures that drop from its heights have to make their way to the city, and some of them might just drown before they get there. Tactically, it's a wise one to leave late, or so it was assumed by their leaders.

They might not have anticipated that what looked through the hole in reality next wouldn't be a creature at all.

For some, it's more of a presence, at first--or a lack of presence where there ought to be one, a cold and terrible emptiness, a hungry but intelligent nothingness. Something should be there, something with a body and eyes, but it is not. A sound like a sigh echoes over Baedal, a beast of between worlds pleased with its new meal, and the tear in reality doesn't just grow. It seethes at the edges, burning away, bleeding down toward the horizon and the ocean like a strip has been torn out of it. It's a tentative grab, one that elicits a quick response from the gods on the astral level which they are inhabiting at present, and it won't get very far, but one thing is true:

It's not just breaking open reality further.

It's eating it.

It takes hours before the gods can stitch that devouring wound closed, and still, behind it, if anyone looks to the northern sky--

They may get the distinct impression something is still watching them, even if it can no longer reach through.

baedalites

Who: Candlelighter operatives.
What: The siege begins.
When: Evening, until the following night.

An hour before the broadcast on the Network, groups of focused, quiet, inconspicuously clothed women and men (some of them magically cloaked, so as not to arouse suspicion before their missive has been sent) begin to surround the canton of Mafaton. They situate themselves carefully along the border, in clusters of two and three. When the broadcast goes up, they are notified, and immediately send up magical flares to one another, bright red lights flying high in the air and exploding like supernatural fireworks. In addition to sending a sign to citizens local to them, this act reinforces the border they have established, and allows these foot soldiers of the Candlelighters to stay lurking on the edges.

Anyone who tries to cross their path will almost certainly be captured. They may be held hostage, but it's much more likely that they will be simply killed for their trouble. These individuals may all be flesh and blood humans, but they're still magically powerful, and they're driven by a ruthless fanaticism. Still, they may engage those trapped within Mafaton during the siege, although they are unlikely to have anything good or kind to say.

aldabeyoun

Who: Njoki, Bob Barker & YOU.
What: Fixin' horses, seein' clients, chattin' on the phone, etc.
Where: Mafaton, various other places throughout Baedal.
When: All throughout the week
Notes: The remade horse scenario is for Martha, but the rest of the options are open to everyone. If you want to chat and set anything up, give me a shout.
Warnings: Some gore and bodyhorror. These are Remade horses.

Even with the reduced population of cruorvores in the city, Njoki is still busy enough to have regular wait periods between making an appointment and seeing her. It seems those that are left have a vested interest in warding their property and making sure their appearance is as human as possible. For this reason, she's often out and about anywhere in town: tracking down new suppliers, riding the trains, taking a well-earned break in a coffee shop after a particularly difficult bit of work, and so on.

Today, she's on time and waiting for Martha outside a Mafaton stable with a rucksack over one shoulder and a toolbox in hand. It's worth noting that she's wearing clothing to suit a dirty, messy, hands-on sort of job.

studious_snake

Who: Jay Nagai and requested NPC
What: Jay is trying to find a job
Where: Employment office
When: Two o'clock on Misdi
Warnings: None

Once he'd found the employment office, Jay went inside and sat down, waiting for one of the employees to finish up whatever work they were busy with so he could speak to them. Having never been to an employment office before, and certainly not one in a place like this, Jay didn't know what to expect. He didn't have much experience, and wasn't sure if that mattered. After all, it was impossible to verify any experience he may have, anyway, which wasn't much. He'd only had college and a few co-ops.

Fortunately, the clothes he'd arrived in were nice enough. He had freshly washed them for this, of course, and had bought other clothes while there, but the black slacks, dress shoes, white dress shirt and tie seemed to be an adequate way to dress to come here. He felt like he was as ready for this as he conceivably could be, and now he sat, hands folded in his lap, glancing around while he waited, looking over at the slightest bit of movement.

mightymorbid

Who: Mozenrath, Requested NPCs
What: Visiting a temple consecrated to Shada, in the hopes of retrieving some answers and inquiring after possible work.
Where: Brock Marsh
When: Sukkardi, around dusk -- since Shada's time is night time.
Notes: This is a repost from the LJ comm -- tags shall be reposted and resumed!

( Mozenrath hadn't even the slightest reason to believe this was going to work. )

mightymorbid

Who: Mozenrath, Requested NPCs
What: Visiting a temple consecrated to Shada, in the hopes of retrieving some answers and inquiring after possible work.
Where: Brock Marsh
When: Sukkardi, around dusk -- since Shada's time is night time.
Notes: I like pie. :|

( Mozenrath hadn't even the slightest reason to believe this was going to work. )

baedalites.livejournal.com

Who: Pascal Roland, Deacon Frost, John Mitchell.
What: Pascal and five or six of his employees get paid a visit.
Where: The docklands.
When: Late at night, Newdi.
Notes: :D
Warnings: Death, violence, vampires.

Since taking over for his recently deceased father, young Pascal (freshly twenty-eight, and baby-faced to boot) has started dressing more sharply, taking his responsibilities in the organization more seriously. He's played around a lot, but recent events have shown him that he needs to prioritize, and thus, along with five of his recent book-keeping hires, is sorting out the next collective attempt at stelanmancy. They have some interesting things they'd like to bring through the fog. Big things. He's an ambitious guy, though not as high-ranking as he'd like to be. Not yet.

The warehouse in which he presently resides is quiet, and out one plexiglass window toward the left of his corner office, he watches his employees mill around in the halls. It's not glamorous, but prestige only attracts attention. This doesn't stop Pascal from wearing a suit, mind you. He likes a good suit, he's found, and Dad would approve.

Above his head, the lights flicker all down the length of the warehouse, and he thinks they've really got to do something about that wiring.

baedalites.livejournal.com

Who: Ms. Ilde D. Featherstonehaugh and Mr. Elliot J. Quirin
What: One of many intellectual exchanges over lunch
Where: The Principle, Brock Marsh (it's a food place)
When: Newdi, lunchtime
Notes: TeeMuu is paying; let's hear it for expense accounts and the eccentricities that they afford.
Warnings: Nerds. Terrible things may be done to science.

The Principle - or The Prince as it's sometimes called - is situated between the university and the river. It does not cater exclusively to the student and teaching body of Tipitaka Medaw but it has made certain concessions to accommodate both. The basement level is considered fair game for parties and loud gatherings; the ground floor often sees discussion groups and orators. The second floor somewhat more traditional and sophisticated. Quieter, generally.

( Students rarely go there )

baedalites.livejournal.com

Who: Mafaton's latest Sheriff, her various underlings and any aspiring deputy hopefuls.
What: Open interviews for folks who ~~feel life is too long~~ are interested in the open deputy positions.
Where: Mafaton's Sheriff Office (under repair)
When: Hours flexible.
Notes: For some deets on the sheriff, hop to this informative page.
Warnings: Doubtful if any.

Mafaton is rebuilding. It's a slow but sure process, one the city is well used to. New people are moving in, old people are moving up. Same goes for Mafaton's own Sheriff's Office. The building was targeted in the riots, and the old Sheriff's gone missing presumed dead.

( There is a new Sheriff now. )

cailisairgid

Who: Solomon Koenig and Audry, a House Ecu representative.
What: A polite conversation about terrorists. Over tea.
Where: A community youth centre run by the House Ecu.
When: Newdi afternoon.
Notes: When he's not directly handling legal affairs for Hellsing (or carrying out assassinations on Sir Hellsing's orders), Sol finds time to be doing a lot of the boring legwork and research involved in the Candlelighters open investigation.
Warnings: None presently.

Solomon Koenig's involvement in this case dates back months, now, and the neat notes in folders kept under lock in his office at the guild hall reflect as much. When it became clear that the paper trail for the known Candlelighters he'd managed to connect to the houses (Mariam Eads, Abidan Biskup, Esdras Zabat and Lydia Cadwallader) had gone cold, he'd reconsidered his focus on just the four of them and began, instead, working backwards. Habits, connections - their communities, their cohorts, where they bought their fucking groceries.

He's known from the beginning some of where it would lead him, but Hellsing treads carefully around the House Ecumenal and he didn't go directly. It's inevitable, though, and going about it in the right way could be a valuable opportunity - which is why he calls ahead, schedules an appointment, and arranges to meet with a 'public relations attache', Audry, at one of their community centres. He's precisely on time, and wryly aware of at least some of what he can expect; interviewing neighbours had involved many cups of tea.

(And many cigarettes, afterwards.)

baedalites.livejournal.com

Who: The City
What: A Rally in Support of Cruorvores.
Where: Mercer's Square, Aspic
When: AT A CLEVER TIME
Notes: Everyone is welcome, including curious neutrals. NPCs available on request. OOC post.
Warnings: A general spirit of solidarity may be present.

Word has been spreading over the network and on the street. Leaflets have been available at open minded public houses and restaurants. A few of the city's more prominent inhabitants have organized a rally to show support for cruorvore citizens. It is going to be a public event; sanctioned, the leaflet assures, by the state. Speeches will be made, the true colours of the city will be shown. There is a lot of talk about standing up to the sowers of discord.

As the evening of the rally approaches, more and more people gather in the square. All sorts have come out for the event, xenians, humans and people who defy categorization mingle peacefully. A cat watches the proceedings from on top the stage has been erected to one end. The stage has been draped in banners promoting tolerance and acceptance, and small sign near the bottom proclaims it was built with the kind donations from Bloody Sunday, The Zygoda, Howl's Market and certain private citizens, of which there is a list. Some attendees have brought instruments and casually strike up a tune every now and then. Others have brought food, signs or torches as the rally promises to continue well into the night.

defenestration

Who: Ozymandias and You
What: There's a masked hero out doing what masked heroes do.
Where: the neighborhoods around city center
When: Misdi - Veerdi evenings and into the night
Notes: Please suspend your disbelief and pretend a mask around the eyes is a really great disguise.
Warnings: Possible minor violence against NPC baddies?

Adrian refuses to believe that's no meaning in the fact that his costume came to Baedal with him. Just as he refuses to believe that the only good use for it is to protect him when fighting off the occasional invasion of mysterious creatures. When the world back home is right, he intends to put the mask on again, knows he won't be the only one who does. So in the meantime, there's no excuse not to get back into practice again while he's here.

There may not be any man-eating crows or giant ants roaming the streets tonight, but that doesn't mean there are no monsters to be found. Humans -- and humanoids (he's still rather coming to terms with that) -- are perfectly capable of doing evil all by themselves. And that's where Ozymandias comes in.

Tonight he's out in the streets of the central city, keeping a reasonable distance from his home in Brock Marsh just to be extra careful with his identity. So far he's stopped a mugging in progress and left an unconscious thief locked inside the business he was trying to rob. It's not a busy night, but it feels nice to be protecting a city again.

Profile

multiversallogs

Multiversal

Logs Community

Entries tagged with npc

The Arena Riots ( open, gamewide )

(no subject)

movements come and movements go

with his back to the audience

another day older and deeper in debt

Bad news comes, don't you worry even when it lands.

closed :: here comes a candle to light you to bed

I didn’t know how frail your throat was under the blue collar.

an uninvited dinner guest.

a beginning.

never put your hat on the bed, son, never put your hat on the bed

(no subject)

I'm Not Even Supposed to Be Here Today!

I'm not even supposed to be here today!

there's a bad moon on the rise.

meanwhile, at lunch

if you'd seen what i've seen

(no subject)

A Rally in Support of the Hungry Few

i am just a man not superhuman [OPEN]

Profile

★ SITE MAP ★

Most Popular Tags