RPR Archive The RPF Adoptions Game: DANGER ROOM - Scenario 3 now playing!

OCC:

That was great and fun Livi-Wan . I hope you play in the next one to.


Thanks for the info DarthIntegral I'll be waiting for the next one thats for sure.

 

OOC: Nice work Livi! Kartanym will be starting the next scenario very soon, so look out for it!

I thought I would now just demonstrate the existence of the foyer for everyone. Remember, you can be a different character for the new scenario if you wish.




Scenario gap, I-II

IC as Varksst'illio:
Danger Room foyer

Varks opened his eyes. And then closed them.

Bringing a hand to his face, he covered his right eye and only looked out at the world in front of him with one eye. But it was still the same.

But this Twi'lek knew how to adapt well to unfamiliar surroundings. He often found himself in a new one every morning. He tried to think back on what brought him here?although his immediate mind was hazy.

The last thing he remembered was the brandy. Actually, no, there was also those pesky mouse droids racing around that shop. The Jewellery Shop... he thought. Reaching into a pocket, Varks attempted to pick up the couple of glass marbles he had snatched when he had fallen earlier and the shiny gem which Melany hadn't seen him swipe. Melany... I didn't? Did I?

As his fingers became more frantic, his fears came true: there was nothing there. All traces of his Jewellery Shop theft were gone. But he recalled the shop and droids clearly... well, most of it.

And then he remembered. Looking down at his leg, he expected to be greeted by a grisly sight. But Varks was wrong again. His right thigh was completely normal. There was no wound at all, although for some reason it felt slightly sore. It was like his life had been restored?or that nothing really had happened.

Standing back straight, Varks looked around the foyer he now found himself in. There were many beings and aliens milling about. He thought he caught sight of Melany, but he didn't want to put too much faith in his eyes. Gonk droids had received hugs from him in the past.

Stepping forward with a twirl of his cape, he decided to address his immediate concern, leaving his unanswered questions at the tip of his lekku.

"Does anybody have some drinks in here?" he shouted out.

TAG: All/Anybody

 

Congratulations!

---

My time for actual RPing may have been a tad limited, but I must say, this has been a wonderful learning experience for all who've participated. I'd like to say cheers too all who have participated, in this wonderful and continually changing (And I might I say succesful) experiment.

The danger room has many more days ahead of it, as I beleive it is going to continue to grow and prosper more and more, as the RPF (Both our SW Forum, and the soon to be Non-SW Forum), continue to grow as well.

[color=blue]I must say, [i]Kart[/i], I look forward to what you have in store for us![/color]

 

That was awesome!

 

OCC:If its alright i'm going to gave the existence a try.


IC:Ewan Solo.

Place ???


Ewan blinked once and then twice, "I'm I somewhere else?"


"Your in a medic room," a voice said.

A mean lend over Ewan and looked at him.

"A medic room," you said with a lost look on his face.

As he sat up and looked at the man.

"Yes," the medic said kindaly.

"Your ok kid you got thrown really hard by something."

"Yeah I did, Ewan said grinning.

"Well you free to go your ok, just be careful next time.

"I well and thank you Ewan said smileing and left the room.

"Well what now, Ewan thoguth. As we walked on the street.

"Hmm lets see if I met anyone on the way maybe I well."

Tag. all/anyboday. If not then I ended it.

END.

OCC: I hope that was ok.

 

IC: Darth_Vader's Cousin (DVC)
End Simulation/Locker room/Foyer

Ok, Bryce hadn't been the best choice for the job, but he'd preformed well enough.

The whole scenario had ended with the arrivale of the Riot Squad...and he found himself back in the Scenario Entrance hall, clad in his original wardrobe.

HE was quite the sight to see just walking around. Though his wardrobe changed every day, it stayed about the same in basic premise.

Today was a busy day, requiring he carry most of his armaments on his person at all times. That meant limited clothing possiblities.

It deffinatly wasn't a Jedi/Sith day, so no robes or cloaks adorned his body.

He was clad seni-casualy, black combat boots and baggy brownish-black cargo pants. A DL-22 Blaster was slung low on his thigh, and a Bryar pistol was cross holstered above his left leg. He wore a tight black tee-shirt, over which he wore a dual shoulder holster, a Westar pistol under his left arm, and a DE-10 under his right. On his belt hung a multitude of lightsabers...6 singles and 1 doublebladed he kept around for old times sake. All of this was covered by the long trench coat he wore instead of a black "biker" jacket or his cloak.

His shaggy dirty blonde/brownish hair was worn messily, and white Oakley Gascan sun glasses were worn backwards (as he didn't need them in the building.)

Clearly, he was over dressed and over armed. Luckily, he had helped...ok...Listened in...on the construction of this building, and knew for a fact they had added in both Men's and Women's locker rooms, each with personal lockers.

He just had to find them in the sprawling complex.

After 10 or 15 minutes of searching, asking protocol droids (who were of little or no help) and walking in circles, he found the locker rooms, and then his locker.

The large lcokers had each persons name...or nick name in longer cases such as his...neatly on the front, and a holo of their heads above them. The room gave an eary blue glow when the lights were turned off, all the heads projected above the lockers constantly glowing.

He opened the amazingly spacious locker, and was glad to see who ever had designed them had made them (atleast his) with him in mind.

His, for the most part, was a large weapons locker. Sure there was room for clothes and such, but there were blaster recharging stations, and places to hang his gun belts and lightsabers, which he promptly did, removing all his weapons and placing them in the locker. Well, all for the exception of the white switchblade in his back pocket, and the elegant vibroblade strapped to the outside of his lower right leg.

He hung his trench coat in the locker, and took note of the two packs of "smokes" on the inside of the locker door. A pack of large Cigars, and a pack of Bantha brand Cigarras. Only a few of his "personalities" smoked, but he was glad they were there...just in case.

Although only a few of his characters smoked, they all drank...and he was sure this place had a wet bar.

They'd better have one any way...or else he might have to get beligerent.

He quickly...ok...sorta-quickly made his way to the Foyer, and looked around at the people inside...only a few so far, but more would come.

"Hey, Where's the bar?"

He asked loudly, hoping someone knew...

Tag: All in Foyer

 

OOC: Mel's gone. I may or may not bring her back for the second run... I like to see the scenario before picking my char.

 

Your Second Scenario: A Non-Star Wars event.

Kartanym awaits in the foyer for the crew.

"Testing, testing ... is this thing on? ... Can everyone hear me ok? How about up the back? Good ... well, first of all, congratulations on a well run first scenario by Livi-Wan and everyone who took part. I hope I can continue in the same fashion. Anyway, I'm sure you are all eager to learn your next mission, so let's get on with it, shall we..."

A computer screen comes to life behind him, a picture of a mansion appearing in black and white.

"This is your next objective. Within the walls of this mansion is a murder mystery, a very gruesome one I might add. To complete this scenario you must work as a team to find the clues and search out who murdered Jimmy. Poor, poor Jimmy."

Another picture appears, that of inside the mansion.

"Team work is very important. While the aim will be to find the murderer, who will be randomly chosen within this group for the exercise, you must work together and learn to co-operate. Not only within the gaming environment, but outside it too. PM's are a vital component of role playing, and here you will learn how to communicate between yourselves to reach the goal. I, along with the other GM members, will lead as best as possible, but it is up to all of you."

A final picture appears, that of Jimmy. Poor, poor Jimmy, who has been left soaking in a bathtub.

"Oh, and one more thing. There will be no wandering off. You must all follow each other throughout the mansion. We all know what happens to people who wander off on their own accord ... so if you do, something may happen to you. Do be careful. Stay together, and make suggestions on where you should go throughout the mansions' many rooms."

The screen goes blank, and opens out into the lounge room of the mansion itself.

"I will be playing as a new character for this mission, the butler of the mansion who will shortly return home to find his Master removed of life. You may ask the butler any questions you find appropriate. The Butler shall arrive shortly."

It's a dark and disturbing sight as the doorway behind you closes, leaving you inside the mansion itself. A few well lit candles are the only bringers of light within the main hallway. A large, spiral staircase is up ahead of you, leading to two further levels of the mansion. Around you, there are a number of old oil paintings, of men and familes, pets and heroes. Four doors are locked shut within this level, perhaps leading to quiet areas. On a side table, to the right of the main entrance, a small letter is left for you to read:

To Those Who Enter:

Be aware. Things are not always as they seem. A trap awaits you all. Be aware...

 

Name: Quincy P. Shackleford
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Species: Human
Homeworld: Earth, of course!
Affiliation: Shackleford Books
Personality
---Traits: Friendly, cheerful, dry British humour
---Likes: Books, adventures, Great Britannia
---Dislikes: Sloppiness, sloth, cowardice
---Habits: gesticulates frequently, smokes a pipe.
Appearance
---Skin Color: lightly tanned peach skin
---Hair Color: Brown, wavy hair. Always well kempt
---Eye Color: Blue
---Clothing: Black bowler hat, dark brown overcoat, brown suit, his favourite pair of black boots
---Other Attributes: Quite good looking
---Other Details: very polite, and is very good at speaking. As an adventurer, Quincy is also in very good shape, not buff, but nicely built.
Weapons: A sword hidden in his walking stick
Biography:
---Personal History: Quincy P. Shackleford is the epitome of a good British man. He is handsome, smart, successful, and fairly rich. He is the owner of Shackleford Books, a publishing company that he began at a young age.

He is quite eager to try his hand at the art of detecting.

OOC: I'm assuming that this is a "Clue" themed scenario? A late 1800's to early 1900's tale?

 

Name: Brenna McKnight
Gender: Female
Age: 25
Species:Human
Homeworld:Earth
Affiliation:World News Today
Personality
---Traits: Very brash and outspoken, sarcastic, very hyper and generally spunky
---Likes: good books, good music and getting into arguments
---Dislikes: Quiet, dull peolple
---Habits: Speaks with hands, always moving
Appearance
---Skin Coloreachy pale
---Hair Color: Dark red, long and very curly, kpet loosly pulled back but always falling out
---Eye Color: Green
---Clothing: Mans white button up dress shirt worn out, browm riding breeches, knee high riding boot.
---Other Attributes:Slim and small, ony 5'1 tall, reading glasses
---Other Details:
Weapons: small deringer in purse
Biography:
---Personal History: Lived in Ireland for most of her life, moved to England to persue a career in journalism. She has become very good as is well sought after.

 

OOC:My my Karty.... what a.... unique idea....

I shall join out of a twisted sense of curiousity....

---

Name: Mac Orleanis
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Species: Human
Homeworld: Malibu dude!
Affiliation: Himself
Personality
---Traits: Laidback, easy going, surfer character
---Likes: Techno and Rock Music, Surfing, Hanging out with friends
---Dislikes: Uptightness, Rules, School
---Habits: Dude! Awesome! Totally!
Appearance
---Skin Color: Tanned white
---Hair Color: Tussled Blonde
---Eye Color: Blue
---Clothing: Baggy Shorts and a T Shirt, Sunglasses and Flipflops
---Other Attributes: A scraggly mustache an goatee
---Other Details: Pretty smart, but doesn't like to show it
Weapons: Weapons are just a tool of the man
Biography:
---Personal History: Mac represents the quintessential Californian Surfer on the outside. Born in the suburbs, jetted down to the beach every weekend, likes to slouch around with friends and chill. Though underneath his exterior, Mac hides a rather intelligent side. He's more of philosopher than a jock.... trying to appreciate both the worlds of an easy skater and a gentle scholar. Why he hides his intelligent side is a good question.

 

Name: Aislynn Zerlina Nata
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Species: Human
Homeworld: Earth
Affiliation/Profession: Self-employed fashion designer and photographer
Personality
---Traits: Spunky, optimistic, and eccentric
---Likes: Exploring, company of others
---Dislikes: Being indoors for long
---Habits: Twirls her hair and takes pictures or sketches wherever she goes
Appearance
---Skin Color: Peach
---Hair Color: Fiery red
---Eye Color: Deep emerald green
---Clothing: She is most often found in her latest creation which is bound to be eye catching. Her trademark is her footwear, even her hiking boots have heels, and it is a rare occasion indeed when her footwear of choice does not at least reach her knees.
---Other Attributes: Bright smile, seductive curves
---Other Details: Her hair is often wrapped up into two pigtails at the top of her head, which allow her thick red locks to cascade down and frame the sides of her face on the way to the middle of her back.
Weapons: Her camera and her words.
Biography:
---Hobbies: A shutter bug by choice her favorite subject to photograph is nature, as such, hiking and camping are her two most enjoyable hobbies.
---Interests: Beauty in fashion, music, and nature, people, shoes and fabric.
---Personal History: Aislynn has been a shutter bug since her first camera was placed in her hands at the age of four. Her photography is praised worldwide for capturing unique angles and rare moments. She had a pencil to the sketch pad even before the age of four and saw her first design come into existence at the age of 7 when her mother called in a few favors. Since then her dresses have been seen on runways worldwide, along with her footwear. Sheâ??s been booked as photographer at several prestigious events and huge weddings, however much of her prized works have graced nature magazines. Aislynn's life is consumed by her careers and thus to those who do not know her and even to the few that do, she is a bit on the eccentric side of things.

 

I love these games! Time to create a new guy methinks...

Name: Stuart Edward Kinglsey Reardon
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Species: Human
Homeworld: Earth, Great Britain
Affiliation: Unemployed
Personality
---Traits: Theatrical, cowardly, messy, sarcastic
---Likes: Reading, writing poetry (and getting it published), booze
---Dislikes: Critics, deadlines, stupid people
---Habits: Hoplessly messy, doesn't suffer fools gladly, can be quite perceptive if he concentrates.
Appearance
---Skin Color: Pinkish?
---Hair Color: Dark brown, untidy
---Eye Color: Brown
---Clothing: Dark grey suit (looks like it was previously owned by a corpse), brown overcoat, brown shoes in need of repair
---Other Attributes: He's quite handsome in a ragged sort of way.
---Other Details: He carries a hip flask, but doesn't often use it in front of people. They might ask for some.
Weapons: Weapons? Are you mad? Someone could get hurt!
Biography:
---Personal History: Stuart is the youngest son of soap baron Sir John Reardon. Cursed with literary pretensions, he spends his time trying to find inspiration for his poetry at the bottom of various bottles. He has yet to be published but knows he displays no end of talent. The great irony is he might be quite good if he sobered up. His father has just cut off his monthly allowance (there was an incident in Clapham with a young lady), forcing him to think about finding a job.

 

OOC: I was about to say that I was carrying Varks on over to this scenario as I was planning on using him for awhile... and I was so close to doing it, too! And then it dawned on me that we haven't discovered the Twi'lek race here down on Earth yet.




Alas, some final fun till next time.

Scenario gap, I-II

IC as Varksst'illio:
Danger Room foyer/bar/entrance

"I am not drunk!"

The Twi'lek paused to catch his breath after shouting at the closed door. When he had heard mention of a bar when he was in the foyer, he had immediately gone in search of it. After about thirty seconds, he was already sitting on a barstool, into his third drink.

Minutes past....

And then they came. The black moustache men; two of them. Amid cries of "I didn't do it!" to "I demand a lawyer!" they dragged Varks out of the Danger Room upon claims that he was 'unfit' for testing.

Now he was alone, outside. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to see a hazy blue Twi'lek in front of him. It looked just like him! He was not alone! They could be twins! He had a friend! They could dance, and jig and be merry all night long!

TAG: The next SW Scenario

---

CHARACTER SHEET FORMAT

[b]Name:[/b] Mr. Grut
[b]Gender:[/b] Male
[b]Age:[/b] 66
[b]Species:[/b] Oldman... err, Human
[b]Homeworld:[/b] Earth - Australia
[b]Affiliation:[/b] His trusty walking cane
[b]Personality [/b]
[i]---Traits:[/i] Cynical and dry in his speech and humour. Grumpy, but has some wit to him. Doesn't see the upside of life
[i]---Likes:[/i] Not much. A puff on his curved pipe
[i]---Dislikes:[/i] Young rascals
[i]---Habits:[/i] Fiddling with his pipe, using his walking cane for unorthodox purposes
[b]Appearance [/b]
[i]---Skin Color:[/i] Pale
[i]---Hair Color:[/i] White
[i]---Eye Color:[/i] Brown
[i]---Clothing:[/i] A typical beige gentleman's suit and grey tie, topped off with a short wide-brimmed hat
[i]---Other Attributes:[/i] Has a slight limp in his right leg; uses a walking cane. You will often see a few days worth of stubble on his face
[i]---Other Details:[/i] Often has a pipe between his teeth and appears even older than his actual age
[b]Weapons:[/b] Pretty obvious: the walking cane
[b]Biography[/b]
[i]---Personal History:[/i] Born and bred in the middle of the desert in Australia, Grut lived out his early years just as he lives life now: harshly and cynically. Orphaned and abandoned, his life was a misery.

Earning his limp, as he tells it, from some fight to the death, Grut now always carries a walking cane. He made his living from mining, with the occasional stint in the Railroad. These days his pension serves him just fine, thank you very much.

Some say that his outlook on life could even be a cause for worry?or at least a sudden and quick death.

[hr]



[i]Scenario II: Mansion mystery[/i]

[b]IC as Mr. Grut:[/b]
[i]Mansion hallway[/i]

[blockquote]Inside the hallway, shadows flickered around the room like flies around a lantern as the candles swayed from the breeze that the door behind him had just made. Paintings were on the walls, many of which were made from oil Grut couldn't help but notice. [i]As if they want the dreariness of them to rub off on you. Why was oil even created?[/i]

Glancing at the note placed for them, Grut just pretended to ignore it. But inside he felt a flutter. [i]Mysterious notes?just what we need.[/i] Taking a step further and towards the wall, the older man adjusted his hat with a hand.

Lifting his cane, he gave the wall a good and loud whack.

"Boo!"

Grut let a low chuckle loose when he got everyone's attention. "Why are mansions always so edgy an' plain haunted?" he drawled. Drawing a quick puff from his pipe, he looked away and up at the spiral of stairs.

"Everyone's thinking it, I'm just saying it!" he cracked under his breath loud enough for people to hear.[/blockquote]
[b]TAG: All/Anybody[/b]

 

Quincy P. Shackleford

As Quincy entered the derelict building, the door swung shut behind him, quite ominously.

He raised his eyebrows in suspicion. This was quite similar to a book he had read recently, where a rag-tag group of individuals were trapped inside a mansion, and were forced to solve a murder.

Superb!

He heard a thud, and turned, his cane coming up in his hand, ready to spring. The source of the noise was an ancient old man, wearing a beige suit and hat. He too had his cane in his hand, and had apparently hit something. Quincy lowered his cane. Nothing to be worried about. He was part of the group, it seemed.

Quincy reached inside his overcoat and withdrew his pipe, clamping it between his teeth and lighting it with a match. The room was illuminated, briefly, but that glimpse revealed a mansion with dust everywhere.

"Rather quaint, hmm?" he said, to no-one in particular.

Tag: Any

 

Nurse Ratchett, Foyer

She knew it was over when she saw the arched roof through her first two pairs of legs.

The Ruurian rolled over and tossed her nurse's cap aside.

"Sod this for a game of soldiers. I'm quitting!"

Tag: no-one

 

IC: Mac
Location: The Mansion Foyer

Mac stolled into the mansion, bobbing his head up and down as he listened to his Mp3 player. God he loved this song. It just, spoke to him, on like, so many levels. Music was such a.... holistic experience. Said stuff words could never get out.

The song stopped as he found himself in a creepy old foyer of a mansion.

"Woah!" he said. "This ain't the Burger King."

How the heck did he get here? One sec he was walking down the boardwalk, and next, he was here.

He took off his headphones and looked around at the people that were next to him. Man, these gents looked smokin!

"Duuuudde!" he said with a huge smile. "You two are totally like, Sherlock Holmes! Wicked righteous!"

TAG: Penguin, Tyi, and Others

 

Quincy P. Shackleford

Had Quincy not been the man he was, the newcomer's suddena rrival would have made him jump out of his boots. A mean feat, considering they ascended nearly to his knees.

He turned slowly, both hands on the head of his cane, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

In the dim light, he could faintly make out a young man standing just behind him. Quincy released his tight grip on the cane, and with his free hand, reached for another match. He struck it on the sole of his boot, and let the flame catch. He lifted up the match, and peered at the newcomer.

A "beach-bum". Wonderful.

As the match neared his fingers, he shook it, putting it out, then tossed it into a wet vase.

"Holmes? Hardly." he said, moving forward to greet the man. "Quicny Shackleford. Pleased to meet your acquaintance."

Tag: Hammer, Tyi

 

OOC: I look forward to the day when I can actually have a time and scenario to use Nonn Jash to a good extent. But, until then, I guess I will have to develop a new character for this one ... oh well, it will be good to practice my non-SW RPing.

Character Sheets:

Name: Rev. Kenneth Q. Jameson III
Gender: Male
Age: 64
Species: Human
Homeworld: Earth, specifically the United States of America, more specifically, Alabama
Affiliation: Southern Baptist Church
Personality
---Traits: Very sure of himself, bordering on cocky/arrogant. Talks with a pause between most words.
---Likes: Large donors to the church, pot luck dinners
---Dislikes: Lazy people.
---Habits: Pacing, talking to anyone with the ability to hear.
Appearance
---Skin Color: White
---Hair Color: grey
---Eye Color: blue
---Clothing: Black three piece suit and purple tie.
---Other Attributes:
---Other Details:
Weapons: The Bible
Biography:
---Personal History:
Kenneth Q. Jameson III is a preacher, who is also the son of a preacher, who was also the son of a preacher, who was the son of a saloon owner. He was born and raised to follow his in father's footsteps. He married his high school sweetheart when he was 19, and they have a son Kenneth Q. Jameson IV (whom Kennth Q. Jameson III loves), who is also a preacher, and a grandson, Kenneth Q. Jameson V (who calls himself Kenny), who is a professional snowboarder (whom Kenneth Q. Jameson III barely acknowledges as his own).


IC: Kenneth Q. Jameson III
location: Mansion Foyer


Kenneth Q. Jameson III was pacing back and forth, trying to take in all that his eyes had just shown to him. And good Lord, was there a lot to take in. He looked around, and saw several people. What an opportunity, he thought to himself, to speak to some new people. To find out about them. And to see what was in their minds. He noticed two young fellows and an older gentleman, not too far from himself, appearing ready to congregate amongst themselves.. He thought this might be as good an opportunity as any. One of the young fellows reminded him quite a bit of his young grandson. That thought made him shudder, as he approached the three of them.

"Good evening. Gentlemen." He spoke to them in his usual speech pattern: broken up. "And how are. You today? May I inquire. As to what brings you. To this fine. Mansion."

Tag: (any of) Hammer, Tyi, Penguin (or anyone else that shows up)

 

Brenna McKnight Mansion

Brenna blinked in the low light trying to get her eyes adjusted. What the heck was going on? And would it sell any papers? She glanced around and was takin aback at the strange array of people present. An old man with a cane, a surfer "dude" and a man that looked as though he belonged in a bookstore. Hmm curious, she would have to investigate and see what was going on. She walked up to the bookish man first, he looked the most approachable "HI, my names Brenna, I'm an affiliate with the World News Today. So what do we have here? A murder" she asked the last part jokingly as she tapped her riding boot on the floor.

TAG: Anyone at the moment.

OOC: uh oh looks like we have to redheads present ( Aislynn), things could get ugly haha

 

OCC:I was set for Ewan Solo to come back but thats ok He'll be back. For now.


C sheet.


Name:Matt Masters
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Species: Human
Homeworld: Earth
Affiliation: heavy metal rock singer in band with his friends and tattoo artiest.
Personality
---Traits: He?s a punk smart but doesn?t show it, and gets bored fast.
---Likes: Hanging out listening to heavy metal
---Dislikes: prejudging, and people that are stuck up.
---Habits: Listens to music a lot and sometimes at the wrong time. He?ll also go and draw something that?s cool for a tattoo out of the blue.
Appearance
---Skin Color: Light tan
---Hair Color: Dark brown
---Eye Color: Dark green
--- Clothing: Dark cloths, with silver chains on the belt, in short wears all black.
---Other Attributes:
---Other Details: His hair is long down to his shoulders and sometimes in ponytail.
Weapons: his chains if he had to use them and his smart-ass mouth.
Biography:
---Hobbies: Listening to heavy metal, hang out with friends, drawing tattoos and playing in his band.
---Interests: Art work of any kind, and freaky looking objects as well as freaky places.
---Personal History: Matt Masters grew like any kid would, well kinda at eight his older brother. Got into playing music and thought him how to play some music and sing heavy metal. At fifteen he was found by a local band called the screamers. One of the band members got him into drawing and after that tattoos were drawn and the rest they say is history.



IC: Matt Masters


Mansion doorway

"What is this place, its creepy and cool looking.

Matt looked around then walked in. "Hello he said out load I heard some people come in anyone around?"

Tag. anyone close to me.

OCC: Sorry but I couldn't think of where to strat so I started at the door I hope thats ok.

 

Aislynn felt the chills crawl up her spine as the doors slammed closed.

This has a dejavu feeling Aislynn thought to herself as if remembering a dream.

Glancing around the room she took in vague details of the many people around her. It seemed it was a mixed lot and Aislynn began to wonder how she had gotten herself into this mess. A young man, possibly a few years younger than her spoke up from a few feet to her right. She glanced over at him and noted his long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. In the pale light, Aislynn could just make out a glint that told her the man's eyes were green. Aislynn took a step closer to him before responding.

"Yes, this place does have a creppy aspect to it. I see myself taking a lot of pictures." Aislynn held out her hand and added. "I'm Aislynn Zerlina Nata. Who might you be?"

Tag: KILIK and anyone who wants to join in

OOC: It will be fun Lucki

 

Scenario II: Mansion mystery

IC as Mr. Grut:
Mansion hallway

Many people were now crowded inside the entranceway to the mansion. Still, no-one seemed that eager to move forward. And furthermore, what caused a frown to appear on Grut's face, was that no-one except for a well-dressed younger man reacted to the sharp rap he had made from his cane. They're all deaf... he mouthed with distaste. In fact, this whole place made him have a feeling of distaste.

But his frown was due to droop further.

"Sherlock Holmes?" Grut took his pipe out of his mouth and looked directly at this young son. "So where's my magnifier glass, I ask? I ain't some old British snoop."

Rather than approach the young male, Grut simply lifted his cane and pointed it directly at the kid's chest. "You, my young rascal, need to wipe that smile off your face before you wear out your cheekbones. What a good life you'd live then, hmm? And didn't you read the sign out front? No headphones?"

Shaking his head, Grut noticed a long-haired lady happily approach the man who had just stated his name as Quincy. Even the females are too jolly in this eerie hall. An older man had also appeared next to them, whose voice almost made Grut cry.

"Life doesn't last forever, Grandpa," he shot at the purple tie on the man's chest, while jabbing his pipe back between his teeth.

TAG: Imperial_Hammer, DarthIntegral and those present

 

GM IC - The Butler

The large double doors behind those who gathered in the hallway opened out with a loud, booming creek. Behind them entered a small, balding man, at least 70 years old but looking as smart as ever in a suit fit for who he was.

The Butler had returned.

"Ah good," an aged voice spoke as the doors closed, "I was beginning to wonder whether any of you would show at all."

He walked forward a few extra steps before continuing.

"My name is Harold, and in case you haven't figured it out yet, I am ... or at least, was ... the Butler to Master Jimmy Horn."

He paused. "Poor, poor Jimmy" he said softly, then shook his head.

"The reason you are here, of course, is to help me figure out exactly who murdered the young man. Now, I'm sure you've all had a look at that note over there on the table? I believe it to be a message from the mastermind of this evil plot, or whatever it is."

Harold the Butler was a downhearted old man. Having worked for the same family for over fifty years of his life, he had dedicated it to serving them, never worrying about his own self. Now, with the last of the family bloodline killed for unknown reasons, he had nothing else to live for. He didn't know where to begin, except call upon those he believed could help him.

"So ... are there any questions before we begin?"

tag: ALL

 

IC: Matt Masters


Inside the house.

"Well hello to you i'm Matt Masters," he said as he shok her hand.


You take pics huh thats cool, I might find soethings to draw."

He saud grining.


tAg Aislynn_Zerlina_Nata