Hmm. Well, this is a bit disappointing. I would like this story to go on, but it may be foolish to try and continue it now (although I completely understand The Player being unable to participate, as that pesky thing called real life does take precedent). So, what shall we do? Resume when we are all able? Abandon this? Start a new story, with us and possibly some more folks? I’m fine with whatever you gentlemen would like.
Im more than willing to continue this story if some appropriate excuse for the players disappearance can be made. On the other hand another story could be conceived, as i rather was rather enjoying my self and it would be a shame to just call an end to it.
((Mr Puckeridge is still over here on his bar stool - and can arrange for the disappearance of The Player, if this is felt an appropriate way forward. Naturally, should The Player wish to rejoin the fray, the way would be open for a triumphant return.))
edited by Richard on 6/23/2013
((Oh, sorry! I forgot to be out of context here! And a disappearance would work, I’d think. We should give the Player a few days to exit himself, and after that, allow our dear friend Puckeridge to arrange it. And before I forget, I’d like to thank all of you for the patience you’ve shown. Much appreciated, friends.))
edited by Sherman Jones on 6/23/2013
((Hi guys. I am new to Fallen London but not forum based RPG. I would be happy to join the game if that is okay.
Using my Fallen London character I could slot in as the urchin the Waylander interacted with outside.))[li]
edited by Jack Silver on 6/24/2013
((I’m more than happy to have you join us as long as the others are too. With any luck, we’ll have this story going full speed in just a few days!))
((That’s great, Thanks;))
Little Jack Silver
- An urchin of the streets of Spite
- Well connected among both Urchin’s and Criminals
- A skilled and daring pick pocket
- Morally grey but with a good heart deep down. He will always defend fellow urchins and though a thief, he draws the line at murder and other truly unsavoury activities. (Though that does not mean he is not capable if the need arises)
((If you still want more players))
Mytana
- A scholar, of sorts, and occasionally a writer.
- Seems to know everyone, but known by few
- Careful with words, but knows what’s going on
- Sometimes appears to be furthering a goal, other times seems to be unsure of even having motives at all
((Of course! Welcome aboard, Silver and Mytana! Here is what I think I’ll do from here: I’ll write up an event that causes us all to leave the Sorrowful Zailor, and we can all commune outside (besides Waylander and Silver, since they are being sneaky and all) to discuss how to begin the search. If we don’t hear from the Player within a few hours, then I’ll go ahead and get things going later this evening.))
((sounds good, but I’ll be offline for several hours. Time differences, you know?))
((Oh, no problem! As long as we can have at the very least one post a day, things should go swimmingly. By tomorrow, our story should be back on track.))
((i’m more than happy to have someone be the urchin as i wasn’t entirely clear on how i was going to pull that one of.))
((All sounds good to me.))
((Sorry everyone! Got caught up playing Dragon Age and completely forgot about this. I’ll continue the story around noon tomorrow. Sorry for the laziness on my part.))
Sherman’s outstretched hand was pushed back as the door to the tavern was thrown open, and a half dozen men armed with firearms and blades stormed inside. One of them pointed at the Player and yelled "There!", and they all turned to face him, weapons at the ready. "Oi, put 'ose fings away." a Docker yelled, cockily walking towards them. "Stay out of this!" one of the men said, and shoved the Docker back violently, sending him crashing into a tray of ale. Sherman winced as he anticipated would happen next. With an unholy scream, the now ale-less Docker charged into the group of men, a broken mug his weapon. Within seconds, the bar was engulfed in firearm smoke, screams, flying debris, and swinging blades. Sherman barely managed to avoid a stool hurled right over his head before he stumbled out the door and into the damp night. He glanced back at the bar. He wondered for a moment if the Player needed any assistance before deciding that he wasn’t willing to go back in there regardless. Unsure of that to do next, Sherman leaned against a nearby lamppost to consider his options.[li]
edited by Sherman Jones on 6/25/2013
((Oh, and as for posting order, feel free to post whenever seems appropriate. There isn’t a length requirement, so even a sentence or two is fine. We don’t necessarily have to go in order, but I’d like everyone to get a chance to participate in a scenario. Chit-chat could work in a situation where you’ve already contributed and are waiting, keeping the story going while waiting for others to make their choices and decisions. Although if there is an exclusive conversation going on between two people, for instance, they wouldn’t have to wait on others to keep posting. Hopefully this all makes sense!))[li]
edited by Sherman Jones on 6/25/2013
Mytana had heard the noise, but bar-fights were hardly unusual around the docks. Zailors tended to get rowdy on dry land. This seemed louder though, more vicious. He spied a gentleman leaning on a lamppost, and wondered if the gent were leaning due to injury, or intoxication.
((Just a quick note, Mytana is an individual of mysterious and indistinct gender, and what pronouns I use are whatever feels ‘right’ at the time, so I may switch between masculine feminine and neuter depending on what’s happening. Your characters can use whatever, but Mytana’s not fond of the "sir- er mad-" dialogue.))[li]
edited by Mytana on 6/25/2013
Jack looked down at the amber in his hand and smiled a wide grin. Payment in advance was always a good thing, not least because it usually meant more on completion.
He was about to wander towards the door of the bar when the commotion began and he quickly jumped back into the shadows. Commotion was normally a good thing in his business but not when that many weapons were involved. Thankfully, his mark make a swift appearance and he also seemed distracted by the goings on around him.
So when the man leaned against the lampost, Jack edged forward.
‘Evenin’ Sir,’ Jack began. ‘Do ya appen ta know what is appenin’? Ma brother is in there an our papa don’t want im in trouble again?’
Jack put on his best innocent smile and waved his left hand towards the building as he spoke so that it drew attention away from his right hand as it deftly searched the man’s pockets for anything of interest (as well as the fork).
[li]
edited by Jack Silver on 6/25/2013
Mytana watched the boy and wondered if he should step forwards. Opportune robbing was part of life for the urchins, he knew that, it was even a part of his work.
However, one tended to wait until one’s target were unconscious when dealing with the intoxicated.
Rather than stepping forward, Mytana moved further into the shadows to see if the gent would realise.
If he didn’t, well then Mytana would have to decide if it were the gents fault, or even worth his time.
Sherman looked around for a moment before placing where the voice was coming from. Ah, an urchin. Small little buggers. But what was this? Quite a trick for one so young. Sherman played along, following the boys hand as it went towards the tavern. "I think I may have meet your brother in there, my boy. And he gave me a dire warning. Do you know what he said? He said 'Watch out 'or my brother, ‘es a right good thief!’" And with that, Sherman jerked his body around and caught Silver by the arm. Jones glared down at the boy, trying his hardest to look intimidating. He kept his gaze strong for nearly a whole ten seconds before a smile broke through and he released him. "That wasn’t bad, son. If I hadn’t used that same trick to lift purses in my time, you may have gotten me! Anyways, run along now. Next time I catch you I may not be in such a go-" Sherman’s spiel cut off abruptly as a racking cough hit him, spittle and blood flying in equal parts from his mouth. For a few moments, he stood hunched over, waiting for the tremors of his fit to pass. "Well, that was unpleasant…" he muttered. But where had that urchin gone?[li]
edited by Sherman Jones on 6/26/2013