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Old 06-21-2012, 05:00 PM   #1469
tHEhERETIC
 
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Join Date: Jun 2007
Location: Life imitates art--I'm in Pohang
Default Re: In Nomine: the Pacific War (IC)

“Done. The Hunt and the huntress, the Baron and the Malakite, and…”Laurence hesitates. Janus takes over.

“And the soldier, and the help, and his dog.” He gives a bright warm grin, the kind that wouldn’t work in any other vessel. C’mon, it seems to say, would you hit a guy in a wheelchair? Never mind that the wheelchair is at the top of an active volcano or that the guy is literally a part of it.

“Plug your brains—this is going to make a big Disturbance.” Janus Sings Motion as only he can, and as you blink out of the Ether and back to your vessels/bodies, you catch a glimpse of Janus waving Laurence to hold his question for just a second.

It takes fractions of a second to be transported back to your body, if you have one, and that body transported to L.A.
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The revelers tighten around Corat, Mitch, and Bill Dylan, the dance like a tide of ethereal bodies. Remiel has an advantage in this—sure, one goddess captures an eye in her hands like a firefly, but the crowd in general ignores him. This allows him to see a tactic or perhaps just a tide—they’re inserting themselves between the members of the, er, party and trying to wedge them apart. Bill is getting the most attention in this. He’s so closely surrounded that if he gets any further all you will see is his hand waving like a flag above the crowd.
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After the catapult of Superior-level Celestial Motion you find yourselves inside a familiar place—well, strange and new to Remiel, but familiar to some of you. Faux-Egyptian columns flank an open curtain, revealing a stockroom of a sort. The bookshelves are nearly full but the larger shelves contain only a handful of glass and earthenware jars. The shelves have impressions in wood grooves and dust tell that there were many more here recently (the ones you’ve got back in SFO now).

Shuck, having come in his own vessel, now sports a pair of eyes in an otherwise identical form to his ethereal one. He leaps instantly to the site of Kingman’s death, even though it has been thoroughly cleaned up. He sniffs at a trash bin that contains the pieces of the slaughter god’s prison-jar and he’s worlds of excited. It is the delight of a dog on the hunt, and after a moment’s more sniffing for the sheer pleasure of it he’s clearly itching to pursue the thing.

Speaking of pursuits…where’s the Hunt? A crash of metal outside is followed by raucous laughter. A peek outside reveals seven motorcycles, seven tough guys and one petite woman who has apparently chosen not to ride the strange fickle steeds. One rider bears a pair of stag horns on his helmet (at least you hope that’s a helmet!) and one rider is shorter and beefier than the other six. It is the latter they are laughing at, for dropping his bike because his feet barely touch the ground.

((The Baron will enter as he sees fit.))
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Criminy...these two have enough issues, they can sell subscriptions! (ladyarcana55, in a PM)

Last edited by tHEhERETIC; 06-21-2012 at 08:38 PM. Reason: see OOC
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