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Post by Avery on Jun 15, 2015 18:21:14 GMT -5
The Town was an event that ran from June to August of 2015. It's a game that's run similar to Mafia, with the Townsfolk versus the Resistance. It is set in the town of Melville, which is run by the wonderful Council and their kindness, doing everything in their power to make life good. The town of Melville is surrounded by the Wall, which no one can exit, but why would anyone want to, with the terrible monsters out there? And especially when life inside the wall is so good?
Don't you agree, good citizens?
This post contains all the information concerning this RP, originally kept in other threads but may come in handy when reading through this.
Links to each round:The Town of Melville was presided over by a Council, which deals with all the affairs of Melville to Keep Life Good. This is the post that describes each member of the Council:Every good resident of Melville must know all about their beloved Council members! After all, they're just the best, aren't they? <3 The Council is comprised of six members at a time, one of whom serves as Council chair and is the ultimate and final voice of reason and authority in Melville. Council members are appointed for life (or until they wish to retire; after all, being on the Council is such stressful work!) by a popular vote... amongst current Council members, that is (because the Council is so wise and knows best, it obviously makes sense that its existing members are trusted with the difficult task of picking future members!). Your current Council members are: Chair of the Council
Mayhitch Frinkett Appointed chair of the Council nearly twenty years ago at the tender age of thirty, Mayhitch is lovingly known as “Uncle May” by the adoring populace of Melville. While much of his time is consumed by ensuring life stays wonderful, in his free time he enjoys reading, singing, and spending time with his family. Other Members
Quintus Bellini Going on his twentieth year as a Council member, Quintus is known for his upbeat attitude and patient demeanor. Overseeing Melville's fine public education system and its citizen records, when he’s not helping to keep life good, you can often find Quintus relaxing in one of Melville’s fine cafes with a cup of tea in hand.
Daniela Schuler A tried and true member of the Council, Daniela came to her post after spending ten years as a brave member of the City Guard; she is now in charge of Melville's security plans and procedures. She is married with two beautiful children!
Kay McGill The newest member of the Council, Kay has a keen eye for business and helps to ensure that resources in Melville are properly allotted for maximum happiness and efficiency!
Blair Roce Mr. Roce’s specialty is making sure that everybody in Melville puts in their fair share of taxes and tithes, so that no one gets a free ride and everyone contributes to the best of their abilities. As long as you don’t try to skirt the law, Mr. Roce is your faithful friend and ally!
Marlis Bellini The beloved daughter of Councilman Quintus Bellini, Marlis embodies many of the virtues that have made her father such a good member! She is always eager to show that skilled political leadership really does run in the family. To help guide people in their adventures through Melville, Icon drew up a handy map! It is here:Herein find the town map of Melville, drawn by icon: The gate stands at the north, and the northern section of the city features the most densely populated areas, including-- on a patch of land in between the river's fork-- the commercial district, called the Island; this part of town is also the wealthiest. The southern portion of the town grows increasingly more rural and poorer, featuring rolling farmland and fields. A more detailed map of the Island, for a better idea as to its layout, is forthcoming. In the game, there were 5 members of the Resistance out of a total of 22 players. Below is the roster as it was at the time of the game start, in order of sign-ups, with no roles revealed to prevent spoilers.Mixed in with the roster were special roles, described here:In addition to three vanilla Resistance members and twelve vanilla town, the following roles can be found in the game: Town:InvestigatorHand-picked from the ranks of the City Guard, the undercover investigator seeks to do a clandestine survey of the residents of Melville in order to ferret out the guilty. Each night, he submits a name to me and is told whether or not that person is guilty. Paranoid InvestigatorWith such wicked crime afoot, the town needs more than one investigator, right? Only this bloke is a bit... anxious. Each night, he submits a name to me and is told whether or not that person is guilty. ... The thing is, he might be a little ah, liberal, in his estimates. The paranoid investigator is told that all guilty people are guilty, but he by the whims of a dice-roll, also has a 75% chance of being told that the innocent are guilty. Both the Investigator and Paranoid Investigator are told they're merely the Investigator; they must figure out through in-game execution results whether or not they are paranoid. VigilanteThe Council is great and all... but their means of finding the Resistance are so ineffective! Good thing we've got our own Vigilante, right? The Vigilante begins the game with an (illegal, ironically: there are no firearms allowed for ordinary civilians in Melville!) gun, with three precious bullets in it. At night, he may choose to fire that gun to kill people he believes are guilty. But be careful; if he kills an innocent, he'll die of guilt the next day. ClairvoyantAfter an ill-advised shimmy up over the Wall, and an encounter with some interesting creatures in the Wood, the clairvoyant developed some... interesting... powers. Utilizing this, throughout the course of the game she has three opportunities to select a dead person at night with whom to communicate privately; they may then share information and theories. Be careful with your choices, though, clairvoyant: you may only select any one individual once. BookkeeperA Council-appointed busybody who keeps meticulous records on the citizens of the town. Although their records haven't proven sufficient to ferret out the Resistance, they have, as a small consolation, at least figured out the identities of the other town special roles. At game start, the Bookkeeper is given a list of four names, those names corresponding to the other special town roles. They are not told which person is in which particular role, but can utilize this information to know who not to vote for in executions, and so that they can more diligently pore over posts made by these people looking for clues. Resistance: ParalyzerSelects a person each night who will be paralyzed the next day-- mentally, at least. Inducing anxiety in their target, the target is then left unable to stomach the idea of executing anybody, and may not vote in that day's execution. Any one individual may only be targeted twice throughout the game, so act wisely, Paralyzer! ForgerWills, pah. So trite. Throughout the game, the forger has three chances to tamper with wills of town members. Upon death, the forged will, rather than the original one, will be displayed for the town to see. As for those curious, the rules and guidelines to the game:Round LengthRounds will last approximately 4-5 real life days. Each round will feature a Narrator post to open it featuring the previous night's death. A second Narrator post will follow ~72 hours later upon that round's execution. All deadlines for each round will be found in the Round Deadline sticky. Information Sharing... is not allowed. Roles MUST remain secret; you may not share your role with anybody, either inside the context of the RP or outside in private chat. You MAY hint to things you know from your role within the RP, but this must be done subtly (for example, an Investigator talking in-character negatively about someone who's turned up guilty on his report is acceptable; that Investigator outright saying "I'm the Investigator and icon is guilty, that scallywag!" is not). When in doubt, please ask me for clarification prior to acting, and I'll be glad to elucidate further. Furthermore, in the narrative context, finger-pointing is both welcome and expected. Part of the fun here is rousing up suspicion and paranoia, and so as long as you're not breaking the fourth wall or blatantly revealing role information, go ahead and fling those fingers! (Your character ranting to another character about how that characters sucks so much and maybe that's because he's in the RESISTANCE, gasp, is perfectly fine; it's only once your character's ranting is underlied by you outright saying or strongly implying that he's the Investigator that you start breaking rules. Again- if in doubt, just ask.) Fantasy Level
As per the poll, fantasy level must be kept MODERATE. All characters must be human. Supernatural elements are socially acceptable and known in Melville, but are not overly prevalent nor are they extreme. As always... if in doubt, just ask and I'll be glad to clarify Environment/Tone
A lot of this will have to come organically through the RP, but I will strive my best to establish a strong, clear tone in the prologue Narrator post in order to make sure everyone starts off on the same foot and with the same conception of what Melville's like. In general, I'm envisioning this as a sort of... dystopian environment, with the tone dark but a little whimsical, and featuring elements of horror and fantasy/fairytale. The town of Melville itself is a small but self-sufficient colony with a resident base of around 1-2,000 inhabitants. It was established before the lifetime of its present citizens-- perhaps one- or two-hundred years ago-- after some sort of traumatic world-altering event. The details of HOW or why that "apocalypse" happened will probably best be collaboratively developed throughout the RP itself-- and same thing goes for more specific world details, like what, exactly, are those creatures out in the Wood. icon is also working on a map of Melville which should be up soon and will hopefully help everyone envision our darling little town better. Post Summaries
Following the very helpful guidelines initially proposed by Pixie during Mafia III, as well as some additional ones that we added during Medieval, for each post you make in the RP, please include at the end (embedded in spoiler tags) a brief summary of what happened in your post; also tag anybody who is directly mentioned. These need not be overly long but serve to help those playing catch-up with the RP so that they can get the gist of what's going on without carefully poring over every single missed post. You can also include in these summaries hints or prompts for things you think might be fun- for example, if your character has waltzed into a crowded area of town and you want somebody to come over and talk to them. A summary might look like this: Post StylePosts must be in prose form. That means dialogue tags, fully formatted paragraphs, etcetera. So for example: Not: Pretty simple, hopefully! WillsYou may submit a will to me via your role PM, 100 characters maximum in length, to be revealed at the time of your death; wills are a free for all as to what's in them, including information gleaned in your role, so as long as you stay within the bounds of general forum rules and etiquette. Death/GhostsUpon dying, you may RP the rest of the game in a variety of fashions from beyond the grave - in the past we've had anything from spirits haunting/possessing sugar shakers, to humanoid ghosts, to everything in between. In addition, all ghosts will be added to a private consortium via PM where they can then collaborate with each other to cast one collective execution vote per round. In the ghost consortium, since roles will have been revealed to the game at large, you MAY utilize information gleaned utilizing your role to help yourself and the rest of the ghosts come to an educated vote. And so without further ado, the game as it played out!
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Post by Avery on Jun 15, 2015 18:34:19 GMT -5
Prologue: The Writing on the Wall The writing was, quite literally, on the Wall.
No one was quite sure who had written it—or how they’d written it, so close to the gate and without the city guard catching them first—but at least one thing was abundantly clear: Mayhitch Frinkett, benevolent chair of the Council and most beloved figure of the town, was very, very, very displeased.
Early on an October morning so cold and blustery it might have sooner passed for January, Mayhitch paced restlessly near the item of offense, the heels of his perfectly polished shoes clacking against the cobblestones beneath, as though by expert pacing he might fix the fact that, beneath the noses of his prized Guard, someone had nevertheless managed to commit such a blatant misdeed. Not that run-of-the-mill graffiti didn’t happen from time to time—I<3C painted here; a stick figure cat drawn there—but things like this… well…
Taking a deep breath, Mayhitch turned toward the small but growing crowd that was thronged around him, the residents of his fine town come to see what all the fuss was about. Part of Mayhitch wished that his Guard had had the foresight to cover up the wicked message upon first discovery, prior to any of the citizenry seeing it, but the time for such a move had clearly come and gone: concealing it now would merely cause whispers of conspiracy.
And given what else had been going on in town lately… in spite of Mayhitch and the rest of the Council’s most diligent efforts…
The Chair of the Council forced a placid smile to his face. “Fine morning, isn’t it?” he called out to the onlookers. “It’s just too bad that some people”—he gestured to the vile message scrawled behind him—“must find ways to sully things. But worry not, my friends! Uncle May is here, and he will make sure that those who’d dare tarnish our precious Wall with awful threats are brought to justice as swiftly as is possible.”
“Is that blood?” inquired a small, pale-haired boy from within the crowd, frowning as he studied the haphazard writing.
Mayhitch froze. “Of course not, Tommy.”
“It looks like blood,” Tommy retorted.
“Tommy.” The woman at his heel, her hair the same shade of snowy blonde, winced and gripped to her son’s shoulder. “Uncle May said it’s not blood, and so obviously it’s not.”
“Maybe.” Tommy frowned. “But—what’s it mean? Dee… dee…” He paused as he sought to sound out the first of the words. “Deeth?”
“Death,” Mayhitch corrected, almost automatically, before the man realized what he’d just read aloud and grimaced. “But um—it means nothing, Tommy. Don’t concern yourself with it.” Swallowing hard, Mayhitch waved his arm, as though to ward off the still-growing crowd. “None of you ought concern yourself with it. And don’t you all have places to be, jobs to do? Tommy, why aren’t you in school?” A leaden smile still plastered on his face, he finished, “Carry on with your days, please! The city guard is fetching paint right now to paint this wicked message over. Nothing to worry about or gawp at any longer, okay?”
The crowd dispersed reluctantly, so that within a few minutes it was just Mayhitch and a few members of the city guard left. Letting out the breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, Mayhitch turned back toward the wall and dourly read the message to himself again. As he did, the plastic smile on his face curled instead into a tight, thin frown.
Seeing this, one of the guards bit her lip. “It won’t happen, Uncle May,” she offered, fiddling with the gun holstered at her belt. “It’s all just talk, you know? This whole Resistance thing—they’re a lot of bark, but so far they’ve had no bite.”
“They hung an effigy of me outside City Hall last week,” he replied darkly—something nothing but he and the guards knew about, for thank the gods his men had removed it while still most of the town slept. “With its head halfway cut off,” he added after a moment.
“An effigy,” the guard agreed. “But that’s hardly bite, Uncle May. Just them huffing and puffing and pretending to be mighty. And we have those undercover investigators on it, don't we? I'm sure they'll catch these rabble-rousers sooner than later.”
“They managed to interfere with the airwaves, too. The radio. Replaced the beautiful music Councilwoman McGill hand-picked with vile lies about her.”
“Bark,” the guard replied again. “No bite.”
As a pair of watchmen finally arrived with paint in hand, Mayhitch Frinkett sighed bitterly. Stepping out of the way so that they could begin the process of marking over the writing on the Wall, he said, “I’m afraid that it won’t carry on that way, that’s all. Not if they do what they’re threatening here. Because if this message is true, then they seem to be done with merely bark, don’t they?”
And with that, the Chair of the Council strode away, the cool autumn air lashing at him, and the message written in what may or may not have been blood framing his back, as though in foreboding:
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Post by Draco on Jun 15, 2015 19:22:20 GMT -5
Quentin Nook didn't really care about what happened at the wall. He had other business to take care of. He was the school teacher for this part of town, and he needed to prep for the next day. He was in charge of the younger children, and he had many in his school. So all this death business wasn't any of his concern, though he would probably hear a earful from his uncle who was one of the leaders that worshiped the wall. He groaned from the future headache he was going to receive. He walked his way over to the school building. Quentin wore a simple button up shirt with a light jacket over and a pair of shorts. Though it was cooling, he despised pants... Something he regrets in the winter, but he refused to give in to their evil powers. His hair was a bit messy, needing a good trim soon, but he didn't really have the time for that sort of thing. As he walked up to the school building his uncle, Father Brick, burst out the doors. "Quentin! Have you heard? Someone we know has sinned! They have defaced the great and powerful WALL!" Quentin rolled his eyes, it was all ready starting... "I doubt we really know the person, Quentin is quick to reply." Ever since he was small, Quentin had a odd way of speaking. His uncle claims it was his punishment for trying to climb the wall and falling down, but Quentin couldn't really remember. "It's just some paint, paint that I will now have to explain to the children about later, Quentin said in annoyance." "Oh child, you don't understand! This is only the beginning! The wall must be protected! So starting tonight, me and the other Wall disciples are going to keep watch! Those guards are useless, and they dishonor the Wall!" "Yeah yeah, they're more valuable then the wall, Quentin mutters to himself." "What was that?" "Nothing, Quentin said in response." Father Brick stares at Quentin and shakes his head leaving down the street. Quentin shook his own head and entered the school building. Like he told his uncle, he had to prepare for the onslaught of questions the younglings would badger him with later, and he had to answer in a way to keep the Council happy as well. What a bother. Quentin Nook hurries to the school to prepare to teach the students, and worry about what they'll ask him concerning what happened to the wall.
He's stopped and forced to talk to his Wall obsessed uncle, Father Brick.
Getting rid of Father Brick, he enters the building to prepare for students.
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Post by PFA on Jun 15, 2015 19:33:44 GMT -5
Fortune was nowhere near the Wall. Fortune Hart, that is; one of the locals of Melville, with her short brown hair tied messily into a ponytail. She was merrily tending to her meager belongings—little knickknacks she had picked up here and there, all of which she cherished fondly. She felt perfectly at peace here in her little house, surrounded by all her precious treasures. Most of all, she felt safe. After all, Fortune Hart had decided for herself many years ago, it was safe to stay within the town; the Council had assured them of that. But wouldn't it be so much safer to stay in her own house, where she was always happy and never had a care in the world? Nothing could ever go wrong as long as she stayed in her little hut, she was sure of it. Yes, life was good for Fortune Hart. Fortune Hart is a happy little hermit in her happy little hermit house. Nothing could go wrong!
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Post by Celestial on Jun 15, 2015 19:58:02 GMT -5
Ivan Tout had always been an ordinary farmer, living on the outskirts of Melville close to the wall. Ever since his dear mother and father had died, he had been left as the sole provider to many brothers and sisters. Labour on the farm was tough, backbreaking work, but he had thrown himself into it as much as he could for the sake of those poor children who relied on him. From the first rays of dawn to the first stars of dusk, Ivan was either out in the fields, chopping wood or cooking for the entire family. It was tough, backbreaking work, and they did not always to go bed with full bellies, but it was all worth it just to see the smiles on their faces and the admiration that his siblings had for their big brother. Even if he had to sacrifice everything for them, the Children and the farm meant so much to him that he would be glad to. However, one thing stood head and shoulders above them in importance and her name was Caraway Nix. Ivan sighed as thoughts of her entered into his mind, taking the opportunity to take a break from chopping wood for the fire. Caraway...they had known each other since they were little kids and ever since then, he knew he had always been in love with her. She was the most beautiful girl in the world, and absolutely perfect. Sadly, too perfect. He knew what, with his plain flaxen blond hair and chocolate brown eyes, she would never love him. Which was good, in a way. He had to take care of the Children and she deserved better than the simple, humble life of a farmer's wife that he could offer her. Yet still he daydreamed. With a sigh, he continued to chop wood. After a while, he stopped to remove the ragged shirt that he wore, hanging it on a crook nearby. His last shirt...he had to conserve it. Once that task was done, Ivan put it back on and put the wood away into the shed. The Children were asleep still, which meant a perfect time to go into Melville proper and acquire groceries for the day. They did not need much, and they could not afford much, but perhaps he could pick up some candies for the younger siblings, or better, see Caraway. Either would be just as sweet. With that thought in mind, Ivan took his shopping baskets and set off into town. He did not get far, however, before he spotted the crowd gathered around the message. Averting his eyes respectfully from the Council, not eager to get their attention, he listened to what they had to say, all while glancing at the message on the wall. Oh. Oh dear...this was not good. What would happen to the Children? What was going to happen if the Resistance gained ground like they said. Groceries could wait. As soon as the crowd dispersed, Ivan ran towards where he knew Caraway's home was and hammered on her door. "Cara, Cori, Rose? It's me, Ivan. I...I need to talk to you. Something happened at the Wall today," he panted. "It's the Resistance, Cara. The Resistance ha reared its head. What are we going to do?" Ivan is just a simple farmer working for the good of his siblings. He is in love with childhood friend Caraway Nix ( Avery) and chops wood shirtless, as you do. During his daily grocery shopping trip, he sees the message and runs to tell his BFF about it. Her sister, Cori ( Gelquie) may also be there.
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Post by Avery on Jun 15, 2015 20:17:40 GMT -5
Every morning, Caraway Nix arose early and, clad in her threadbare nightdress-- always the same one, for gods knew the Nix family could not afford surplus-- sat at the antique vanity in her bedroom as she set about brushing her hair. Sometimes Cara didn't know why she bothered; after all, no amount of careful brushing with her late mother's antique hairbrush would do anything to fix how plain she was. Her locks would remain dull and blonde, a colour so pale it might have been but the glow of an angel's halo-- not, of course, that Cara believed in angels. It was impossible to still foster such optimistic hopes and beliefs after all the strife she'd been through in her fifteen short years, her life one miserable hardship after the next: first, when she was eleven, Mama dying of sickness; then, not long afterward, Papa up and disappearing into the Wood... leaving she, Cara, in charge of her wee young sister, Rosemary, a task that was so very difficult and trying! Oh, how Cara tried with Rosemary! She would sacrifice anything for that sweet little girl. After all, if she didn't care for Rose, who would? ... Not that such a thing was easy, however. Cara was so... average and untalented, after all. True, she was absolutely great with a bow and arrow, but where would that get her in life? And she was so plain, gods how she was plain: with her creamy skin and dusting of freckles, her angel hair and green eyes like glimmering emeralds. No boy would ever look twice at her! Especially not her childhood best friend, Ivan. How long had Cara pined over him, but of course she would never be good enough-- a plain girl like her, for a dashing boy like him? Ha! If only! Speaking of Ivan... On a cold October morning, as Cara sat at the vanity and carefully counted brush strokes, her heart skipped a beat when someone knocked on the door of her small, rickety house on the outskirts of town, not far from the southern border of Melville and several miles away from the gate at the northern flank. As Cara paused, Ivan's voice floated into her room! Oh, Ivan! Jumping up and setting down the brush, Cara started from her room toward the front door, almost tripping over her feet as she moved because she was just so awkwardly and adorably clumsy, you see! (Just another reason Ivan would never love her...) "Ivan!" she called, flinging open the door, before she remembered the horrid thing he had said, upon which she gasped. "The... Resistance? Oh no! That's so awful. What have they done this time? Hopefully nothing that will set the Guard on edge. After all, I must sneak over the Wall later and go hunting in the Wood or else my family will definitely starve!" She glanced back over her shoulder, as if expecting somebody to come up behind her. Please already have left for "work", Cori, she thought. Gods knew her older sister, Coriander, could always ruin everything! Gods, how Cori exasperated Cara! So indolent and lazy, and so useless, oh how she was useless, pretending to go into town every day to work at her "job" because she was too embarrassed to admit she couldn't really find one. It would have been fine but this delusion left Cara to be the one to provide for them all, particularly poor sweet Rosemary! My, how life would be easier if Cori could be more competent and the whole burden didn't fall on Cara's average shoulders! But alas, there was nothing she could do about it but bravely soldier on. Looking back toward Ivan, she smiled charmingly but awkwardly because she was just so awkward. "Will you come with me today? Over the Wall?" Caraway Nix is a plain, boring, clumsy fifteen-year-old girl. Interrupted during a session of brushing her hair and staring at herself in the mirror, she jumps up when her best friend Ivan ( Celestial) comes knocking... and wonders to herself if her sister Cori ( Gelquie) is also in the house. She asks Ivan if he will come hunting with her later in the day on the other side of the Wall (how rulebreaking!).
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Post by Gelquie on Jun 15, 2015 20:57:53 GMT -5
Coriander Nix was busy in the kitchen, setting out all the plates for the breakfast that she finally finished. It took her time to get it ready every morning, to both work with the bread she managed to bring home and whatever they had around the house. Some days, she wished that she didn't have to, that she could spend one day sleeping in and not having to take care of so many chores. But it was a thought that she quickly pushed out of her mind. That was something she had not been able to do in four years, except for the rare day that she fell ill. But that was something she learned to accept. After all, ever since her mother had died and her father had disappeared into the Wood, she had been taking care of the Nix family. She set off to find a job as soon as she could so that she could support her orphaned siblings, and she soon found an opening for an assistant baker. She had been working ever since, often working long hours in order to make ends meet. But it wasn't so bad. The work was good, and she was good at it. If she had to spend most of her days at work to make ends meet for her family, baking was a good way to spend it. It also doubled as a way for her to vent the stresses she had from taking care of her younger siblings until they came of age. "Cara, Cori, Rose? It's me, Ivan. I...I need to talk to you. Something happened at the Wall today. It's the Resistance, Cara. The Resistance has reared its head. What are we going to do?"
"The... Resistance? Oh no! That's so awful. What have they done this time? Hopefully nothing that will set the Guard on edge. After all, I must sneak over the Wall later and go hunting in the Wood or else my family will definitely starve!"...The many, many stresses she had from taking care of her younger siblings. One in particular. She hesitated at first, recovering from her shock at Caraway's declaration of what she would do that day to take in what Ivan had mentioned. The... Resistance? She had only heard rumors about them, but it was nothing the Council couldn't take care of. After all, they had before; they had always been looking out for them. Whatever the Resistance had done couldn't be anything worse... Could it? "Will you come with me today? Over the Wall?"It was with this declaration that Cori snapped her thoughts back to what she should really worry about. "Oh for crying out loud," Cori muttered, brushing a blonde lock of hair behind her ear--one that had fallen out of her messy bun--and marching over to the entryway, where Ivan and Cori had come to visit. "No, he's not going over the Wall, and neither are you, Cara. You know it's dangerous!" Cori said, folding her arms, their matching green eyes staring into each others. "I don't know what you've got in your head this time, but we've plenty of food. In fact, I've got breakfast ready right now, made from the rolls I brought home yesterday; go into the kitchen and see for yourself. Tell Rosemary while you're at it. Then get ready for school, and I'd better hear that you've gone straight there." She turned her attention towards Ivan. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting company; I didn't make a plate for you." She tilted her head. "I overheard you, though. What's the Resistance done? How bad could it be?" Coriander Nix is the oldest of a family of orphans, working most of her days at a bakery to help provide for her sisters. When she's not working, she has to deal with her sisters... Particularly Cara ( Avery), who makes Cori's life more difficult. Cori chastises Cara for even thinking of going over the Wall, then tells Cara to get Rosemary and go to breakfast, then go straight to school and definitely not go over the Wall. She then asks Ivan ( Celestial) what the Resistance has done, skeptical that they've done anything bad enough that the Council can't take care of it.
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Post by Coaster on Jun 15, 2015 21:55:41 GMT -5
Today was going to be one of the best days in a while for Arlie Brook. Well, life in town was always at least okay. Pretty good, if you're fine with that. There were lots of things to climb (except the Wall), and people to stare at while they weren't looking and then quickly run away when they saw you. There wasn't a lot of food usually, but the nice Wallfare people were nice and gave out nice food sometimes, except when it wasn't nice and then she'd give it to Pup, but Pup gets his own food a lot of the time and usually Arlie only sees him at home. Or you could find a tree and break off sticks and keep one in your hair for later if it was a really good one, because then you could build things if you had enough, or you could throw them and Pup goes and gets them. And sometimes people would drop things so you could take them and trade them with people for nicer things. Unless they were jerks. Once, Arlie met a jerk near home, and he was really creepy and tried to take Arlie's stuff, but the jerk got really scared for some reason and ran away. Sometimes good days could be boring days, though, so you could just lie down where the Wall had a shadow, and then watch the sun until it started hurting your eyes, and then close your eyes and watch the colors move around, and do that until the Sun went over the Wall, so you could see what your friends learned when they went to school. Arlie tried to go to school for a while but they said a lot of weird things and wouldn't let Pup come too and tried to take Arlie's stuff, too. Arlie got away in time, though, and now asks everyone else what they did at school instead. Today, Arlie's house was gone, but after telling a nice man at the Wallfare, the man gave Arlie a piece of paper and said Arlie could go to this other place in town, and there was somewhere Arlie could find a place to live and maybe even find a family. That's why it would be one of the best days in a while. So, Arlie went to that place in town and looked at all the houses, and saw one that looked pretty nice, and tried to go in the door, but it was broken. When Arlie made a way in, there was an old lady with brown hair there--like Arlie's but cleaner--and there were a bunch of toys all over the place, and Arlie knew this would be a good home, and never wanted to leave. "Hi, lady! Are you my family?" Arlie asked the lady, marching dirty, bare feet into the parlor. "Oh, and your door's broken." Arlie's a little urchin kid who intrudes on Fortune's ( PFA) property. (Side note, as far as pronouns go for reactions, use whichever you think your character would react with. He, she, them, it, whatever your characters make of the bedraggled person in front of them.)
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Post by Ginz ❤ on Jun 15, 2015 22:09:50 GMT -5
Leira pulled herself up from her bed and closed the notebook where she had been writing. She walked up to her mirror to catch a glimpse of her long red hair. It looked frizzy and tangled. She brushed it a few times, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. Her hair was just perpetually messy. Then, she reached for a small jewelry box she had lying on top of her vanity, and dug around it briefly until she found and pulled out a small rock. At first sight, it looked like a regular pebble you might find on the street, but if you held it up to the light and looked at it closely, something shimmered inside it. She had never seen anything else like it. She had picked up the rock a few years ago, when she was still a little girl. She was sixteen now, so she was no longer in school, because in her father’s opinion, anything over basic education was a waste. But back then, Mr. Nook had taken her group at school on a field trip to see the Wall. Leira had been really bored at first. What was so interesting about a wall? But then, the gates had opened to let a shipment of supplies into the town, and she had seen that small pebble roll inside and be pushed and kicked until it was close enough for her to grab it. She didn’t even know why it had caught her attention in the first place, but it had become her most treasured possession. And even though life had always been good for her, ever since that moment, she had become obsessed with learning everything she could about the world outside the walls. One day she’d see it for herself. No matter what it took. She looked at her special rock again. “I just don't see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad,” she thought. And with that, she put he rock back into her box, grabbed her backpack and a sweater, and stepped outside. Maybe she could find Mr. Nook to ask him for a lesson today, or maybe she’d run into someone else on her way. Leira is a 16-year-old redhead girl who has been obsessed with knowing what's over the wall ever since she found a curious shimmery rock that came from the outside. She keeps a journal, and takes lessons with Draco behind her father's back sometimes. She's on her way to find him now, but she might run into others on the street.
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Post by Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff) on Jun 15, 2015 22:31:16 GMT -5
"And...come back down into your Child's pose. That's it. Nice and slow." Laurie Blackwell surveyed the small group of people, all of them kneeling with their fronts to the floor and their arms outstretched. A tiny smile tipped her lips. If someone walked in right now, they'd probably wonder why Laurie's students were bowing to her. "Alrighty, come on. Up and at 'em." A collective groan from the class before the group of 20-something swayed to their feet. Such a bunch of lazy bums. "That's all for today." With a deep breath, Laurie placed her hands together as if in prayer. "Namaste." Groan. Laurie bristled, drawing herself up to a full five feet. The act burned her thighs and stirred her spirit, but if it was for her well-deserved respect... The strawberry-blonde drew breath, and a few students took note of her expanding chest. "NAMASTE!"Every student jumped and placed their hands in a prayer position all at once. "Namaste!" they chorused back. Laurie began rolling up her yoga mat, and her students took this as a cue to get ready to leave. "Remember, class," she called to them, "Practice your Sun Salute Vinyasas and meditate at least twice a week--this is mental as well as physical." Her words passed her students like water through cloth. Laurie sighed. For too long they'd told her she'd had no purpose as a yoga instructor, not when there was "work with a purpose" to be done. Work like teaching, farming, even serving as a tavern maid would be better than what she did. People didn't understand that there was more to the mind than they regularly used. There was a deeper possible connection with the world they lived in. And she could find it right here, in the safety of the Wall. Or at least, she knew the way. Her heart lightened and her mind was at peace when her body did what she wanted it to do. And the poses, the meditation, the cup of smelly herbal tea Laurie had each evening--they brought her closer to her goal. Though what goal that was besides teaching others the ways of finding oneself, Laurie was not sure. She wasn't going to be a tavern maid, that's for sure. So she took up the least objectionable option available: running for her life. Or rather, running to make a living. Laurie slung her bag over her shoulder and trotted to the message building. She rapped on the square peephole, which slid almost immediately. "Any messages?" she asked the pair of eyes. Said pair darted this way and that. "Erin Harvey says she's very sorry, but she can't visit the library with Morris on the 13th. She has no one to take care of her crazy cat when she's gone. Message goes to Morris." "Payment received yet?" "Not yet." The pair of brown eyes, definitely masculine, rolled in exasperation. "You'll have to get it from Morris." Laurie ran her hands through her sticky hair and sighed. Sweating in the cold was much worse than sweating in the heat. "From Erin Harvey, she can't make it to the library with Morris, 13th, no cat-sitter." "Correct." No sooner had the word slid from the door than Laurie burst through the streets, mercilessly crushing leaves and twigs on her way to Morris's house. She knew where several people lived, and had a good idea of Melville in general. Everything ran smoothly so long as one did what they were told. Suddenly, a voice whispered in her head. It was very much like the voice she used when she read her yoga books, but it was male, and she knew it just as well as she knew herself. Unfortunately, she couldn't stop running--her legs were on a sort of auto-pilot--and she barreled right into her roommate, falling into his arms. "Carlos!" Laurie panted, scurrying to her feet like the tiny little klutz she was. Her face burned with an easy flame. TOO easy, she thought. The heat in her face turned into a grin as she playfully punched her best friend. The punch hardly made a dent in his shirt. Laurie's eyes fell to the Wall behind him--the oh so protective, strong wall, very much like Carlos's arms. But then they settled ON the Wall. Laurie swallowed....trembled...and pointed... Her messenger job let her carry strange messages and rumors but...she'd never believed them. Here was living proof. Being so in tune with herself and the guiding force of life, Laurie could think of only one logical thing to do. The poor thing stuffed her head into her turtleneck, where it was nice and cozy and SAFE. Laurie Blackwell screams at her yoga students to shape up. Since teaching yoga doesn't serve much of a "purpose," she's also a messenger. She gets a message to take to someone else, and, in the process of racing to the recipient, literally bumps into her roommate and boyfriend, Carlos Allende ( RielCZ). Laurie then sees the writing on the wall, and hides inside her turtleneck like a....turtle.
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Post by Thundy on Jun 15, 2015 23:39:25 GMT -5
Sampson Thorpe was at work and didn't see the graffiti firsthand. As far as he was concerned it was an ordinary day. The format of the radio station's programming was like clockwork; the anthem of the town and the news at the top of every hour with either music or a talk show filling the rest. The station always went dark after sundown, the electricity that was allotted for the transmitter array needed to be used to light the streets, although this was never public knowledge. Twirling a pencil in one hand, he glanced over the various dials and lights on the control panel, it was a music segment, so he had no need to be on the air himself, and had shut off the microphones. He smiled to himself, the council had recently declared the radio broadcasts to be the best mass entertainment in the whole town. Coincidentally, it was the only form of mass entertainment, but in Sampson's book, winning by default was as good as winning by a mile. People generally did respond well to the programming even if most of it is entirely pre-scripted propaganda. A tiny light began blinking by the door to the soundproof booth he worked in. Getting up, he opened the door, and the smile immediately faded from his face. It was the chief of the news bureau, this was not unusual, as he came in every few hours with updated news items. However he was flanked by the head of the censor board, a small timid man with a methodical eye and endless supply of redacting pens, and the council's media representative, a powerfully built woman who was sporting a stern look. Sampson had good cause for concern, the last time the media representative had shown up during a broadcast, it was when somebody hijacked the transmitter, and used it to distribute the most awful lies about the council and the wall. The broadcast was only halted when in a panic, Sampson took a fire extinguisher to the control panel to make the lies stop. The resulting inquiry eventually cleared him and the other people directly involved with the station, but the culprit was not found. The media representative here now must mean another incident occurred. “Reuben, Ms. Fauna,” he said, shaking hands with them “what seems to be the problem?” “More resistance activity from the looks of it, graffiti on the wall, threats, that sort of thing,” Reuben said, fidgeting slightly. Reuben wasn't a field reporter and could have been spooked by his own shadow. His job, sounding lofty by the title given it, was little more than reading reports that came in and passing them on to Sampson. “You are to report it in the next bulletin. Keep the details to a minimum, people need to be more vigilant, we need you to encourage that,” Ms. Fauna cut in. “After that illicit broadcast we need our citizens more than ever to trust our radio again.” “Got it, I think, this is an unusual step, but once again pass my regards to the council for their wise decision,” Sampson said, scratching his chin briefly. The fact that the council was even acknowledging the crime even took place was a huge step. Although they were becoming harder and harder to ignore. He glanced at his watch, a couple of minutes off 11 AM. “Ah, you must excuse me for a moment, duty calls.” The record playing was just finishing as Reuben and Ms. Fauna closed the door behind them. Sampson pressed a few buttons and a light in the room sprang to life bearing the big red letters “ON AIR”. He was smiling again, this is what he had done for 20 years, and it was what he did best. “Hello hello Melville! You're tuned in to KMLV, the time is just about 11 AM, so you know the drill! All rise for the town anthem and to give thanks to our wonderful friends and benefactors, the council!” And with that the upbeat orchestral sounds of the Melville anthem “Safe Behind the Wall” began pouring out through speakers all across town. In which we meet Sampson Thorpe, host of Melville's best and only radio station.
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Post by icon on Jun 16, 2015 1:01:27 GMT -5
There were other messages on the walls, sometimes. Streetsign was a fairly common phenomenon -- many people on the outskirts of town didn't have access to KMLV or the Melville Harbinger, and word-of-mouth was generally pretty reliable. Word-of-scrawling-notices-on-the-wall was effective as well, if usually reserved for less dire messages than threats on the well-being of Melville's citizens. The Guards couldn't avoid it, of course; there just weren't enough eyes to keep watch and stop every single vandal with a piece of chalk and a grudge from writing "councillor mcgill sux"or "hal tschef wuz here". Most of it was painted over or washed away, eventually -- faded in its own time. But most folks kept one eye to the walls, when they could. You didn't get far without being able to read Streetsign. The walls themselves have messages for the town, some people would say. They claim that the city bleeds chalk, and that new thoughts sometimes appear on the walls when your eyes blink out of sight for a fraction of a second. The Walls have a voice, they say, a pulse, a spirit that represents the whisperings and rumors of the streets. Ciseon is the name they give it, the name a word of power, of powerful actions. See. Say. Own. Ciseon is a folk tale, and like all folk tales, represents many things to many people — some say she is a monster from the woods who got trapped in Melville’s walls, and others claim him as a bogeyman to scare children into obedience. Ciseon is a trickster, a sage, but above all a hero to the downtrodden members of the city—which is why you may often see their sigil scrawled across a wall in Streetsign as you walk toward the commercial centers of the city. Of course, Ciseon is but a myth, the Guards say; merely a fairy story made up so that wastrels can sleep easier at night and vandals can stray honest folk from their work. They pass the chalk sigils on the walls, shrugging them away: Ciseon of the snake-tailed scarf, Ciseon the sun-swallower, the saint of ways, doesn’t actually exist. Right? Streetsign is a common phenomena where people leave messages with their opinions scrawled on walls around Melville.
Ciseon is a folk tale, a mythic character who represents the pulse of Melville.
Of course, neither of these things will matter to the story in the long run, right?
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Post by Thorn on Jun 16, 2015 1:20:31 GMT -5
Ezekiel Ward- sometimes Nezzie, more often just "Doormat", for he had an unfortunate tendency to allow anything and everyone to walk all over him- hurried with an uncharacteristic air of purpose through the town square. The writing on the Wall had troubled him deeply, but he'd allowed himself to dwell on it for far too long, and now he was going to be late for lunch! And everyone (well, everyone involved anyway, and they were the only people-who-really-mattered) knew that Agnes was coming back for lunch today. And that she would expect her little brother to be home at twelve pm sharp, to help her peel potatoes. Or were they tomatoes? No, you can't even peel those...I think...don't be silly, Doormat.Anyway, it was already three-minutes-past-twelve; and he still had three blocks to go- and by Doormat's standards, being late home for lunch on the one day a fortnight he actually got to see his older sister was more-or-less a tragedy of Shakespearian proportions. So distressing, in fact, that not only did it temporarily push all thoughts of the foreboding message from his mind; but it caused him in addition to entirely forget his typically heightened sense of self preservation. Before he knew what was going on he was reeling back, bright colours blossoming across his vision, one hand clasped to his forehead and the other making increasingly frantic circles in a feeble attempt to apologise to whoever it was he had just crashed into. "I'm sorry, I'm...miles away...um, sorry, I'll be on my way now." This took me longer than it should have to write, muse wherefore art thou.
Ezekiel Ward (henceforth referred to as "Doormat") hurries home from a morning of Fretful Contemplation, only to collide with a Yet Unspecified Person (if anyone would like to jump in here and make their character be That Person, I will be very grateful haha. I promise I'm an okay rper sometimes, just not always so good at getting started).
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Post by Kozma on Jun 16, 2015 1:55:08 GMT -5
"Hoo, hoo, hoo!" came the cheery cry from Laffz. "Won't you play The Game with me?" Laffz was an unusual character and no one could understand him (no one was really sure if Laffz was his real name). He had this extraordinary bright yellow hair that seemed to glow in the dim light of the town and he would always wear an unsightly, bright blue outfit. What stood out the most, of course, was this big creepy smile that he always wore on his face. No one can say that they've ever seen Laffz frown; he seemed to be perpetually happy. On this day, Laffz was being his usual, random self. Hopping along the streets of Melville, he would ask those he came across if they wanted to play The Game. No one was certain what this game was as Laffz would not explain the rules. There was only one rule of The Game that he would reveal - "you do not state the rules of The Game 'cept for the first rule, which is this rule."Many individuals had spoken with Laffz only to be met with the same response. "Shall we play The Game?" They would ask how to play The Game; but Laffz never would reveal the rules. The only thing he would do was announce: "That is not how you play The Game!" At which point he would grab the poor fellow's nose and give it a tweak. Of course; when Laffz did the nose tweaking the individual would then run off, leaving Laffz to find another poor fool to try and play The Game with him. This had gone on for a long while and no one could say they knew how to play this game that he had come up with. Even so, Laffz would still go around town and ask the same question: "Shall we play The Game?" Alas; was there anyone who could play the game with Laffz? Laffz is looking for someone to play 'The Game' with him but know one knows how to play it. Will you dare to try and play 'The Game' with him?
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Post by Layla "Nimbus" Karimi on Jun 16, 2015 10:02:03 GMT -5
Out past the outskirts of Melville, beyond the protection of the Wall, there were creatures. Strange and powerful creatures, with abilities and even powers beyond human reckoning -- all dangerous, all deadly. At least, that's what the rumors said. Few Melvilleans had actually seen the beasts beyond the Wall, but from those who had, the whispers had inevitably begun to trickle down. Whispers of the massive Skyraptor, of the insatiable Rykfang, of the hypnotic Direcat*... Whispers of the Shadowkyne... Kree had not heard the rumors, and did not need to. Kree knew what the wild creatures were like. And Kree knew that out of all of them, the shadowkyne were the greatest -- by virtue of being the most cunning, if nothing else. Of course, that last bit was very much a matter of opinion. After all, it is tempting to hold one's own species above the rest. ----- Kree slunk through the underbrush that grew closest to the Wall. Few of the intelligent wildlings bothered any longer -- the Wall was high, and well defended against outsiders. This actually proved beneficial, in a way. Some of those intelligent wildlings hunted shadowkyne, and their distaste for the barrier, not to mention the barrier itself at its back, afforded Kree some protection. But this was not the sole reason for Kree's presence. It certainly helped, but... Well. The simple fact was, Kree was a curious shadowkyne, and it was not one to give up easily. It could hear so many sounds and smell so many scents beyond the Wall, and the big trucks that went through the gates never ceased to tease it with a tantalizing glimpse of the life within its borders. Kree needed to see the inside for itself. The wall proved quite the obstacle, yes, but no obstacle was insurmountable. Kree paused in its slow patrol and pricked its ears. That sound. It had been faint, but it had been enough. Kree knew it was not alone. Reacting quickly, Kree willed light and hue into its black coat and color into its eyes. These bushes made it easy, for all they required was a dark, messy camouflage of leaves. Kree stilled its breath and waited for the danger to pass. Kree is a shadowkyne, a surprisingly intelligent species of creature living beyond the Wall. Kree is curious about Melville, but while on one of its forays to try and slip past the Wall it finds itself being stalked by another creature and strikes up a weird lightshow camouflage thing. This ability may or may not be pertinent later. *Note: Thought it would be fun to throw a bunch of possible creature names out there and let anyone who wants turn them into something. Other than the shadowkyne species itself, I tried to leave as much up for grabs as possible. Heck, even the names there are up for edit, if people want to use or make up completely different critters than the ones suggested by those names.
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