Game Thread Session 1 Scene A: The Frederick Douglass Bridge (Andre, Anne, and Farhad) - Page 3 - RPG Crossing
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  #31  
Old Sep 15th, 2023, 12:02 AM
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Farhad I find that a knife to the throat a very effective means to removing unwanted solicitors, Mr. Farley.

Farhad stated with not sign of remorse or guilt, it was a fact, one of tried and trued scientific veracity.

I’m glad to hear that this was not a personal slight against myself, or my client, Mr. Farley, that would have forced things to go very differently.

Farhad took a step closer to the unpleasant little man.

I can accept three fights and three wins, as you said yourself, Andre can handle himself, but what I cannot accept is further harassment from the Underground. It would be a shame if it became common knowledge that those that frequented this fine establishment, are harassed and cajoled by the Underground, aided by none other than the proprietor himself. That would certainly ruin a fledgling business such as this, one that thrives on secrecy and backroom anonymity, wouldn’t you agree Mr. Farley?

Farhad savored coiling around his prey, the metaphorical cracking of bones popping in his mind.

Luckily, only three people, excluding the remaining members of the Underground, know where that information came from – you, Mr. Farley, me, and Andre. Surely you can keep this secret to yourself, and so can I for a simple price – a favor, and of course there’s the matter of Andre, but I assure you, he’ll remember things just how I want him to, of that you have my word, and my word is bound by Mithras.

Farhad smiled as he acquired another bauble for his hoard, toads were known for their potent toxins and the mystical healing. What secrets would this beast excrete when pressure was applied?

Then it is done. Next time you want to schedule Andre, you can go through me.

Farhad reached into his breast pocket and produced a business card, which no doubt cost as much as Mr. Farley’s gauche fedora. Embossed on 16-point matte ivory cardstock, a gold foil dragon swirled around the edges, a pile of treasure, books, and trinkets piled in the middle with The Dragon’s Hoard: Rare Books and Antiques written in shimmering calligraphy ink across the top. Farhad Amir Zahhak, فرهاداميرماردوش, in script along the corner along with the store’s address, phone, and fax. To the skillful eye of a modern observer, a website and email address were sorely lacking.

Now if you’ll excuse me, no doubt my companion is already causing a ruckus. Can’t leave them alone for too long unsupervised, can we? He’s certainly not bomb-proofed. Not yet anyway. In time, I’m sure he’ll be as reliable, not just as bold, as Balto.

Farhad turned, his business concluded, he saw no threat from the toad-man, and rejoined his companion already picking a new fight.

Farhad pressed his tongue against his teeth, and whistled the way only a fork tongued lizard could, to get the attention of his acquisition, and the hulking behemoth he was sizing up.

Standing between the two massive men, Farhad looked out his place, though his aura was as menacing as any in the room. You’ll have your chance – both of you. There’s no fights scheduled tonight, but don’t worry Farhad turned his attention to the crowd, Mr. Farley and I have already started ironing out the details. That’s right folks, tell your friends, just a few more wins for the Wolf, and he’ll be able to leave the Morgue, just like his name – cold and lifeless.

Farhad didn’t understand the modern take of gladiatorial sports, but he was a salesman and some things, never change, and blood sports, they were one of those things, and they always yielded the same bounty; power, drachmae, and an inevitable fall from grace.

OoC Farhad is offering to keep Farley’s little misstep a secret in exchange for a debt, and poke and goad the npcs for maximum profitability.

Let me know if I need to roll.

I am mostly back to regular posting.
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Last edited by wodine; Sep 15th, 2023 at 12:07 AM.
  #32  
Old Sep 19th, 2023, 06:20 PM
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The ColusseumFarhad lays down the law to Farley, forbidding future connection between the Underground and Andre. Farhad asserts his leverage over the short promoter. Farley does his best to look defiant as a cover for his clear snivelling. When Farhad has said his piece, Farley draws himself up and smooths out the front of his leisure suit.

"You're Andre's manager, huh? OK, OK, sure sure sure. I'll just take care of all the contracts and all that no problem, I'm sure I got time for that, sure. I suppose that means you'll get a cut of his purses. I'll put you down for the usual. Don't say I never did nothing for you." He watches Farhad leave without gainsaying anything that A hit on Persuade means that you get what you want; he'll no longer help the Underground. That especially applies to their interaction with Andre, but he'll presumably think twice more generally. That said, a partial success means I get to make a choice. He's going to hold Debt over Farhad.he was told.

Farhad exits and sees the confrontation between his new client and the large dark man before him. The Morgue keeps the mad-dog look on his face but seems to physically chew on Andre's pitch: a battle between them. He spits on the ground. But not at Andre's feet; a respectful gob to the side. "Yeah all right. A success! You get your way. But a partial success means there are conditions.I'll take you on. But." he pauses, looking Andre up and down. "You gotta show you're not just a flash in the pan first. I wanna see you in another match. You best win that match. And make it good. You do that, and I'll be the next guy you see in the ring." He gives Andre a silent upward head nod as a goodbye. He glances over to Farhad and gives the dragon a pronounced look of disdain. And then he walks away.

Andre needs one more match, his second. And then The Morgue will be his third. That's the match that will make him or break him. Fail in that last match, and there's pretty much no way Farley will let Andre keep wrestling. Win it, and he's sure to get a renewal, and probably a nice set of bonuses. All Andre has to do is beat... one of the greatest wrestlers the city has seen in the last 25 years....

Andre looks to Farhad. He sure seems like he's talking like Andre's manager all of a sudden, huh?

The Metro tunnelsThat name rings bells, both in her past life and in this un-life. This 'Populi' is not someone to whom you can put a face to a name. No; to anyone Anne will know, the man who calls himself Vox Populi is faceless (and yet, of course, she saw his face plain and simple here Underground). To the extent he is known above ground, And I'm going to call his faction Power.it's only as a voice, a message. He has a radio broadcast that somehow can be heard all over the city, but with equally terrible reception everywhere. That broadcast is also streamed online, with better quality audio.

By his own designation, he says he is a voice of the people (which is embarassingly on-the-nose for someone as classically versed as Anne). He talks of the decadence of society. He talks of a new order. He talks about the corruption of the rulers, or the solidarity of the people. He talks of the urgent need for change. That change must come, will come.

OODMBringing this scene to a close. Feel free to wrap up this thread as you please! It sounds like many of y'all have plans. There is no immediate danger in either location, as long as you're not seeking violence yourself.
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  #33  
Old Sep 20th, 2023, 08:08 PM
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The Spectre
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Anne Charlotte Beall, the Spectre
There were living people who resembled ghosts more than the restless spirits of the dead. Disembodied voices that filled spaces, moved hearts and directed hands to a greater extent than a spectre like Anne ever could. People like Vox populi - mysterious, charismatic, ruthless.

Anne had never experienced the wireless while she was still measuring her existence in days and nights. She was well aware of the power of musical composition and recited poetry, but such things were usually reserved only for the people of her class, individuals who could appreciate the gifts of the muses. Common people lived either in silence or the noise made by their equals. It was no wonder that their weak minds were easily charmed by the passionate speeches of politicians and the honeyed words of charlatans.

At first the physical presence of the speaker had been necessary, but as the years passed the power of the voice grew, as did the distance it could traverse without losing its vibrancy and power of persuasion. The world changed. It became louder, more confused and confusing, full of competing noises and alternating images, invading every aspect of the people’s lives.

Anne did not understand the radio, television, internetwireless in its many forms. Constantly playing music, nonsensical laughter, high-pitched voices getting mixed up, bright light and garish colors, men, women, children, animals, things, they all formed an artificial environment that was alien to one who had learnt to appreciate the rareness and uniqueness of sound and form. Then again, Anne didn’t belong to the people Vox populi sought to influence. She could neither change herself, nor bring about change in others. She was trapped, much like an insect in a teardrop of amber, frozen in time, a witness, not an actor.

No.

Something stirred inside her. Was it indignation? Obstinacy? A desperate need to prove that she too was relevant to the world? Not even Anne knew. She merely felt an indescribable urge to exceed Andre’s expectations and overcome her own limits.

Like a shadow she extended her presence towards Vasili, who shivered unexpectedly and turned around. His eyes went right through her ethereal form without being able to detect her. It didn’t matter. Even if he could have seen her, it would have made no difference.

Her hands reached out to him, her fingers brushing softly against his skin before penetrating bone and flesh and making the man cry out in surprise. Anne ignored the fleshy parts and got hold of what lay beneath - Vasili’s spirit, soul or life energy, she couldn’t tell for sure. She pulled abruptly and was in turn pulled closer to the man who was gasping as if out of breath, his eyes wide and fearful. She willed herself to enter his body and the two essences started merging.

For a moment Anne was confused. Anne? The name was familiar, but it didn’t really feel… right. Smells, sounds, images, and emotions flooded her, leaving her both overwhelmed and utterly ecstatic. She could feel her hands trembling -actually trembling!-, a terrible ache behind her eyes, even a small amount of saliva escaping her parched lips. She moved her tongue and licked them. Wetness - what a wonderful sensation! She -he?- looked around and had to shade her eyes to protect them from the fierce light, more blinding than the radiance of a hundred suns. Such colors! She looked at the blood staining a few discarded bandages inside a garbage bin and marveled. She had never seen such a vibrant red before! It was simply breathtaking. A strange agony in her chest grew and she was forced to inhale. Air, full of strong smells and fine dust, filled her lungs and the agony immediately subsided. She could breathe! In. Out. In. Out. A woman’s head appeared, looking at her with concern. The nurse. She raised the corners of her mouth, revealing her teeth in an awkward smile.

"I am fine."

The words were soft, but they felt like roaring thunder in her ears. It was her voice, his voice! True words, not whispers. The woman nodded reluctantly and told him -her- to notify her immediately, if he -she- experienced any kind of discomfort. The smile widened, turning into a hideous grimace.

"I’ll go get some fresh air."

Her movements were stiff at first, but the more she moved her arms and legs the more natural they felt. Her arms, her legs! Accidentally her right arm collided with a wall and she stopped, relishing the sweet pain as a bruise slowly formed. Exquisite!

I need to go to Andre. I have much to tell him. About the Underground and Vox populi.

She hesitated, but only for a moment. thanks to her intimacy moveSomehow she knew where Andre was. She could feel him like she could feel the soft breeze coming from the dark tunnel. It was with pleasure that she realized that she could not see past a few feet. Her eyes couldn’t pierce the darkness, but she wasn’t afraid. Why should she be? She was alive.



 


 
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  #34  
Old Sep 25th, 2023, 09:26 PM
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Farhad Well that settles that.

Farhad watched as the Morgue walked away, not letting his gaze fall from the wrestler until he was some distance away.

Farhad placed a reassuring hand on Andre’s back, in part as a sign of support, but also to remind him that there were other forces at play and that they had come here for a purpose other than wrestling.

I think we’ve been successful here tonight, let us not push our luck.

Farhad waited for Andre to finish enjoying his moment in the limelight and as they exited the Coliseum Farhad whispered, this, Underground, shouldn’t find this place very safe anymore, but it seems this insidious little group you’ve gotten yourself mixed up with is very… interested in you. Not to worry, I know a few things about avoiding the shadowy tendrils of covert bureaucratic automatons.

Farhad took a step ahead, his cane delicately tapping the worn concrete.

You got moxie kid, I like that. It’s been a long while since I’ve spent a night out on the town, even if you did flip your wig, there for a moment. But I think it’s time to retire, perhaps a night cap of sour cherry tea and a nice Koloocheh Fooman before bed.

Farhad yawned, sounding uncharacteristically ancient, for a moment, Yes, I think that would do nicely.
OoC I don’t think Farhad has any moves to make, just wrapping things up.
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Last edited by wodine; Sep 25th, 2023 at 09:26 PM.
  #35  
Old Sep 27th, 2023, 04:14 PM
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Andre, the WolfAll Andre has to do is beat one of the best wrestlers the city has seen in 25 years.

The realisation leaves Andre shocked. He follows steps from the building. Words with many syllables bounce off his furry ears. Tendrils. Bureaucratic. Automatons. Words that Andre kind of understands, but not quite.

The tap of Farhad's cane pulls Andre from his excited stupor.

Is that a compliment he just received? Moxie. It was either that or the Dragon was accusing him of possessing drugs. But the immaculately dressed antique dealer seemed... to be enjoying himself.

Andre smiles, baring wicked teeth. "I have to talk to my guy about the costume! I can't believe this is happening!" He's forgotten about the Missionaries and the mission he sent Anne on already, despite Farhad's warning.

Farhad's yawn provokes his own yawn.

"Dammit... I left my clothes back in the dumpster. My good clothes. I have to go back to the underbridge."

It's the last thing Andre feels like doing but he can't afford to lose a set of clothes every time he transforms. The Wolf, however, is pleased. The Wolf wants to run and stretch his legs till the point of exhaustion, perhaps find a nice high perch where he could howl at the moon. He wants to prowl his territory and ensure it remains secure. The night is life and Andre's clay will and human frailties are pathetic irrelevancies.

"You were brilliant, by the way. Like ... perfect manager moves. I doubt you are interested, but ..." The rest of the words don't make it out of Andre's mouth. He owes the antique merchant too much already. Instead, he thanks Farhad again. "If you don't mind, I'll come to the store to grab my bag tomorrow."

The Wolf grows impatient with Andre's awkwardness. "When you want your debt repaid, we will be ready," he snarls.

The Wolf cloaks himself in shadow, dumpster bound.
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Last edited by jbear; Sep 27th, 2023 at 04:17 PM.
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