The Foolsman
Posts: 88
3/30/2014
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The fires are dying away along the docks. Only now are the forces of the Masters taking back the streets. Still, there are places even they can’t touch. Abandoned in the chaos is an old printing house, the press long cold from weeks of disuse, the windows and doors boarded up, waiting for an owner who will never return. Whispers have run through the streets of its proximity to the great shipping lanes, of its hidden machines and buried secrets. Perhaps, for the shadowed few, it still has value…
(tl:dr: Random scenario for bit of fun. There doesn’t have to be a winner, it’s just for role-play, though if things angle that way it’s all good. For fairness sake, we’ll keep gang numbers at 30 or less, plus pets. Any takers?)
edited by The Foolsman on 3/31/2014
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dismallyOriented
Posts: 215
4/8/2014
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Professionalism was key for a good criminal. This was why Teresa made a rather poor one. As she watched Owen kill her tomb lion--her own pet, any concerns about the job were dropped in favor of angry vengeance. It had become very personal.
She fired at Owen with abandon, before ditching her post as lookout. "Take him down!" she cried. Where were her rats? The spy and the Clay Woman were running into the fray, but the rats should've been closest--
There they were! Out came the little pistols and knives. With a shrill battle cry, they went after him, jumping and crawling about on him.
Meanwhile, the monkey had clambered onto the roof of the targeted building and spied a raven messenger. With quick hands, it grabbed on just as the bird flew past, snagging it by a fistful of feathers.
[Seems like someone's been ticked off. Whether this reckless charge is worth it, though, remains to be seen. Go ahead. Make me regret the decision to go this way.]
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Owen Wulf
Posts: 715
4/3/2014
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(I lost internet for four days, I did not think this would still be ongoing)
Seeing the wharf getting about as crowded as a bawd house when the army comes home from war, I resolved to reach that printing house before anyone else. A crash of wood alerted me that Lanius had hit one of the boats in the river, so me and my men rushed across the street.
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edited by Owen Wulf on 4/3/2014
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 Owen Wulf's Profile  Lanzo Hoffman’s Profile  Lukas Uller’s Profile
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dismallyOriented
Posts: 215
4/4/2014
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[Don't worry about scaring people off. It just may take a while for replies, because this is a rather intense scenario with a lot of factors involved. I'm definitely in for the long run.]
Oh no. This wasn't good. This was too early for them to make a move. Well, too early to be convenient for Teresa's team.
The spy, after a moment's hesitation, began moving surreptitiously toward the shore. Things would be getting messy very quickly, and she didn't want to be in the center of it. Backing up the Poet would be the only course of action. The criminals and devious henchmen ran in with their knives, one goading the tomb lion until it roared and charged the group heading toward the building.
Teresa checked her pockets, to make sure that her emergency weapon was still in place. She doubted anybody else would be up on the rooftops right now, but it wouldn't hurt to be ready for a confrontation of her own. And it would certainly come to one if she had to use her gun. Somebody would spot her then, for sure.
No one noticed the scuttering squad sprinting for the building.
edited by dismallyOriented on 4/4/2014
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Owen Wulf
Posts: 715
4/4/2014
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Another group, this time from the streets - and they have a lion!
"Make for the house, I'll hold them off!" I hollered before running straight for the motley crew barreling down the pavement. Waxwail knife in one hand, I pulled out my ratwork derringer and fired into the group, hitting one armed thug in the shoulder and sending another ducking for cover. The tomb lion I would have the privilege of disemboweling as it's flesh turned to ash upon my blade.
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edited by Owen Wulf on 4/4/2014
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Owen Wulf's Profile Lanzo Hoffman’s Profile Lukas Uller’s Profile
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Cotton Dee
Posts: 76
12/21/2014
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Henry Lamperouge observes the ongoing fracas with considerable interest. This was supposedly a quiet stroll down at the Docks, for the sake of some peace of mind. All the explosions and musketeering had quite ruined it. He waits patiently now from a second story window, sipping leisurely on an ice tea. "Are you sure that door is the only entrance?" The question is sharply directed at an imp loitering in the shadows. "Yes, boss." comes the curt reply. "No windows, no skylights, nuffink. Used to be, but they been filled in with something solid. The boardings just fer show".
Henry pauses before replying. "I daren't risk the tunnels, not with the tide as it is. Remember our gift from the Cryptozoologist? Perhaps it is time we put that to use." He retrieves a pouch from his coat, and plucks a single oiled eyeball from it. "Try and sneak this aboard one of the warring parties, Hubert. I reccommend that Foolsman chap. I'll be setting up the barrels, as promised."
Hubert gives a mischievous grin, takes the eyeball, and mock salutes his employer before disappearing into the endless night.
***
Hubert is carrying an eyeball soaked in the sweat of frightened prey. The aim is to induce a copious influx of sorrow spiders within the building. Yes, his name is Hubert. Everyone calls their imp Hubert. That's the point.
Mr Lamperouge is set up in one of the buildings down the street. He has so far had a perfect view of the rooftops, and some of the street, but the actual printing house is a little ways obscured from his position. He is going now to set up the barrels. I will explain what that means at the appropriate time.
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Hubert slips quietly past the two gentlemen at the door, and into the dank gloom of the printing house. The smell is almost familiar, but not quite. Something touches the air here, something... ...hmmm. A crash emanating from the landing draws the attention of the other occupants of the room. What a splendid opportunity! Hubert slips the 'gift' into the pocket of one of the valets. Hmm. That smell again. Perhaps the spiders won't be as voracious? At the pronouncement of "ink", Hubert decides to split before being discovered. He slips out the door again...
... and immediately between the same two gentlemen who passed on the way in. To their mutual surprise. Ah.
Hubert reaches for his satchel. Not an ideal fight, and Henry would definitely chew him out later, but it was an honest mistake. Semi-honest. Maybe.
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OOC:
"Gang" Forces:
-Henry Lamperouge, in Anarchist's sable
-Hubert the Imp, Henry's loathsome companion
-Rockefeller the disgraced LB bandit chief, who remains with Henry
edited by Cotton Dee on 12/24/2014
edited by Cotton Dee on 12/24/2014
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Henry Lamperouge may be found here...
http://fallenlondon.storynexus.com/Profile/Henry~Lamperouge
Current Grind: 1/42 Presumptious Little Opportunites
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