NSWRPF Archive ~Beyond~

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~Beyond~

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A Contemporary Urban Horror Game



Ordinary people life their ordinary lives. They buy some food, visit some friends, earn money, play with their kids or watch TV, read books, sleep, wake up, talk, fight, drink, drive, eat, life, die.

What if all this would be lie? What if all this would be real? What if all this would be both?

Probably the world isn´t about the things we see. Probably it is about the things we don´t see.

Welcome to ~Beyond~

Where reality might just not be what you thought it is.

____________________________

Story

I can almost say nothing about the story, without spoiling too much. But as I ask potential players for quite a leap of faith, I want to assure you that it is build around your characters and will include various elements of psychological horror.


___________________________

Characters

This is a game about normal people. The everyday average human beings and their problems, strength and weaknesses. Ordinary people are far from being boring. Ordinary people have their own problems, dreams and hopes. And quite often these are by far harder to deal with because they are not the heroic breed of RP heroes.
So choose whatever you want to. You want to be a student of law? A sewer worker? A Professor? Homeless? Cop? There really are no restrictions. But to get approval, a character must have depth. Give them some edges.

I encourage you to link your characters to each other in any way.

As this is a contemporary horror piece, I strongly believe we can´t include a huge ensemble cast without loosing the tension and concentration required to make this work. Therefore I will choose among the sheets send in, should there be more than this game can support.

It should also be noted that character-death is not only possible in this game, but quite likely.
___________________________

Character Sheet

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Occupation:
Appearance:
Personality:
Skills of note:
Biography:

__________________________

Rules

1. More than ever, the GM has the last word
2. Respect the Rules of the RPF, always. Godmodding won´t be tolerated.
3. Keep OOC to a minimum. It is potential harmful to the atmosphere.
4. All CS must be send in for approval
5. This is a compact storyline. To assure the atmosphere is not harmed I will take over characters if they are absent without explanation after a reasonable time.
6. All questions go to my PM box. Feel free to contact me even before character creation if you want some input.
7. All events in this game are children of my imagination. Nothing is real or based on true events.
8. Enjoy the Game

This game is based on the Codex09 rules.

---

[color=purple][b][hl=gray]I_H Edit:[/hl][/b][/color] [b]Locked at GM's request[/b]

 

I am posting this game a little ahead of the game start. A good friend advised me to do so, to generate some interest. Character approval is open from now on. Any questions are welcome. Thanks for having me.

~Rachel

 

GM APPROVED

Name: Melissa Burton, nickname Bolts (to the old mans Nuts)
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Occupation: Mechanic/repair woman
Appearance: Has brown eyes, black hair that is about shoulder length and a little ragged, has a puggish nose, and thin lips. Has a rather athletic body, that lacks many curves and when she's wearing a jumpsuit is easily mistaken for a man if you just look at her body. Her hands are bigger than normal, as her feet, so she can be a bit clumsy as a result.

Personality: Rather unsure of herself in many instances. Doesn't like being scrutinized, and will squirm if someone stares at her. The only time she's really comfortable is under the hood of a car, or tinkering with something in her workshop. Has a tendency to stutter as well, and this only increases her social awkwardness. Is also highly skeptical of things that would be considered the supernatural. In general is pretty happy with her life despite these other issues, and wishes people would just mind their own business.

Skills of note: Good with her hands, and likes tinkering with things. Has taken some knife fighting classes, so is at least reasonably competent at defending herself.

Biography: Born into a rather boring family, they weren't rich and they weren't poor. Normal, as these things go. But due to her rather awkward proportions, and certain aspects of her face, hands and feet. That and knocking things over in school. Over all it was not the most fun experience in the world. That changed a bit when she made it into shop in high school, and just fundamentally understood things. By the end of her junior year she had basically gone through the senior classes and was seriously thinking about dropping out to go to an auto school. Her parents didn't let her, and so she spent the last two years in hell. However, she did also get a job with a local mechanic who mentored her in the job as well.

An avaricious reader, she devoured all sorts of books on mechanics and so forth, and as soon as she graduated headed to an auto/diesel college. After the course she went back to the older man who had taken her under his wing, and started helping out with him. Soon enough they were almost like partners, and as both were tinkerers spent lots of time together. That's where she's been ever since graduating, not really interested in any guys because no guys are interested in her.

:snoopy

 

I passed the Voight-Kampf test administered by RachelTyrell...

Name: John Rosenberg
Age: 47
Gender: Male
Occupation: Lawyer with the local District Attorney's office.

Appearance: About average height, not really muscular. Wears steel-rimmed glasses, has a salt-and-pepper beard and moustache. Tired blue eyes. Generally dressed in a second-tier suit.

Personality: A cynic, though when it comes to kids he's passionately protective. He's not looking for love - been through that and come out the other side. Donates to the American Cancer Foundation and the Smith Family.

Skills of note: Legal argument; an ear for lies; handgun marksmanship.

Biography: Rosenberg was a beat cop for a good eight years dealing with some of the city's dirtiest trash; it seemed his destiny to be assigned to one hellhole of a precinct after another. He put up with it long enough to get through Law School at night, somehow juggling his marriage to Andrea -- a tough policeman's wife -- and his job to finally achieve solid grades and pass the bar exam. He and Andrea had plans to have kids once he was in a legal job. His police background gave him marksmanship skills, which helped clear his mind, and a ticket into the D.A.'s office, where his life finally seemed on track as he put away a string of arsonists. Until his wife was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in its late stages and killed her in less than six weeks. That was about three years ago. The pain of the loss is fading, but in its wake it left him cynical and devoted to his job. He's gotten pretty good at trials as a result of throwing himself into his profession, though he's not a showboat like the more media-hungry lawyers in the office and only has a lawyer's job rather than an A.D.A.'s job as a result. He's drifting in his life, really, with a goal only to put as many of his cases away into jail as he can.

 

GM Approved

Name: Logan Reese

Age: 36

Gender: Male

Occupation: Detective

Appearance: Logan is a well-built man having played football in college, muscular with a height of around six feet and two or three inches. He has a short jet black haircut with a stubbly beard and dark green eyes. He is gruff and one can easily tell that he is a man of experience with scars and inner demons.

Personality: Difficult to understand and penetrate, Logan is a down on his luck alcoholic with personal conflicts and inner turmoil. He doesn?t speak unless spoken to, and his replies are usually brief with little to no potential for casual conversation. He has a void in his life that he seeks to fulfill, but doesn?t know how to.

Skills of note: Good hand-to-hand combat and pistol wielding skills developed over a long career on the police force.

Biography: Logan Reese has been a detective for just over ten years. Over the course of his career, he has seen things that would take a toll on the strongest of men, resulting in him developing a hard inner shell. He keeps his feelings bottled up, not bothering to make emotional connections to anything in life. This eventually resulted in his wife of eight years filing for divorce and winning custody of their six year-old daughter, Emma.

Now Logan?s life consists of work and beer. He has been an alcoholic since the divorce, not so much to where he needs therapy but enough to make a dent in his overall health. He also visits a bar on a frequent basis where he has indirectly befriended the attractive female bartender Alicia, who understands his lifestyle. If one person can penetrate the shell of Logan?s soul, it is her.

Nowadays Logan merely trudges on through life, solving graphic crimes that can no longer affect him and drinking his sorrows away drop by drop.

 

SirakRomar asked me to post this for her. Welcome her character.

Character Sheet

Name: Alice Monroe

Age: 31

Gender: Female

Occupation: Barkeeper

Appearance: She is a beauty but does not carry herself like one. She prefers to keep her appearance simple. Black haired, with a straight edged face and with an athletic perfectly-formed body she prefers to hide under used-up jeans and turtlenecks. Striking blue eyes.

Personality: Alice is a quiet but compassionate person which can go from soft to tough in no time. Time made her hard, but hasn´t broken her. She can still show if she likes someone.

Skills of note: She can mix a pretty good cocktail. Is a pretty good brawl for a girl. She has read a lot. Amateur photographer. And she knows people.

Biography: Alice had been a drifter since he early teens. Coming from parents who did not care about her but also felt the duty to pose as parents most of the time she did not had a particular bad childhood. Just no really good one either.
When she was in the age for boys she quickly discovered some relief in dating. Parties and her Clique made her feel confident. Important. And her most charming boyfriend made her happy. Truly happy for the first day in her life.
All of that broke down when he was arrested. Rape and murder of an unknown woman on a Spring Break party. Her world collapsed. She abandoned school, left her hometown behind and hit the road. Her life was unfocused. Men, alcohol, occasional jobs. One could have thought she was on the run. But only from herself.
At some point she just happened to come to New York and found a job she really liked. A nice little bar. She even managed to have a few stable relationships with men. Make friends. Get a flat. Now she realizes it is as close to home as it will ever get.

Through friends she has found her way into the underground music scene. Occasionally working as DJ and always "armed" with a 80GB iPod she find comfort in all kind of music.

Among her friends are many customers. She isn´t afraid of people. Logan Reese a hard drinking Cop has her special sympathy. She just sees something in his eyes, she can relate to. And her work feels easier when he is around to talk to.

 

From the Game Manager


First of all I want to thank all of you for that enthusiastic welcome and incredible reaction to my game. Me and Beyond couldn´t feel more welcome on these boards, really.

As interest in my game is much higher than I had ever dared to hope I opened a few extra opportunities for some players to join. I believe that will make it an even more enjoyable game. But for now I have all the players I can accept.


Please send no more character sheets. It breaks my heart to reject them, but I will have to do so.


To the accepted players I want to say that I am thrilled about the high quality of your sheets and now rush off to weave my plot around these people. Expect a second post form me soon, where I will explain some things and I am aiming for an opening of the game in seven days from now.

~Rachel

 

GM Approved. Yays.

Name: Fiona Bell
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Occupation: Bar maid
Appearance: Medium height with a short bob of light brown hair, heartshaped face, hazel eyes. Normally dresses in jeans and tank tops with shirts over the top. Wears waitress uniform at work.
Personality: Friendly and curious, although prone to loosing her temper and extreme nervousness.
Skills of note: Good memory, some basic first aid and fighting.
Biography: Fiona's dad was in the army and they moved all over the country from base to base, whilst her mother was a homemaker. Fiona was a happy child, despite being a bit lonely due to lack of friends. She was also a bright student and wanted to become a doctor one day. However when she was twelve Fiona's parents died in a fire and she was moved around in foster homes. This left Fiona feeling rejected, she started acting out and getting into fights. By the time she was eighteen Fiona was into drugs and homeless. She met a guy named James who helped her get into a program and get out of her habits. James eventually moved to another city, and since then Fiona has been working at a local bar where she works with Alice. Fiona likes the older woman, but still hasn't told her she used to be a junkie. She frequently serves Logan and has a small crush on the older detective.

 

GM Approved

Name: Ceana (Pronounced 'KEH na') McGillivray-Rivera
Age: 44
Gender: Female
Occupation: Artist

Appearance: Relatively short and a little tubby, Ceana has a short dishevelled mop of dyed red hair. She is often mistaken for Julie Walters, much to her chagrin. She wears brightly-coloured outfits which usually consist of paint-splattered trousers and shirts with long, flowing sleeves, making her look not unlike a hippy in a time warp. Her gaudy, excessive, rough-and-ready jewellery is always accompanied by a rolled up bandana tied around her forehead.

Personality: Typical arty-type, Ceana is a highly flamboyant character, and more than a little eccentric. She also tends to be a bit boorish - generally unafraid to speak her mind, and a touch insensitive on occasion. Despite her 'rough edges', Ceana is fiercely loyal to her friends and family.

Skills of note: Photographic memory, excellent artistic ability, and a gift for thinking abstractly.

Biography: Ceana was born with an obvious artistic talent, in particular her ability to see something once and create a nigh-exact replica on canvas is uncanny. After graduating from art college at 22, she left Scotland for America to pursue her chosen career, away from the glut of artists who inhabited Glasgow and Edinburgh. Ceana soon found a job she enjoyed, working as a police artist; drawing criminals as described by victims. It was during this time that she first met John Rosenberg. While they didn't initially hit it off, a few years of working together saw them become firm friends.

John introduced Ceana to a work colleague of his, one Kian Rivera, whom she fell in love with. They married when she was 35, and had a daughter, Nairne, two years later.

Ceana's career as an artist finally took off six years ago, providing her with the challenge of raising Nairne and growing accustomed to her new-found fame. With a bit of help from Kian and 'Uncle John', she managed to juggle both with surprising finesse. Life seemed to be going well, until John's wife Andrea died suddenly. Ceana tried to console him, but John buried himself in his work. The only contact she has with him now is when he comes to visit Nairne, who he treats as his own daughter.

Having won several awards and held a few exhibitions, Ceana was just getting used to living the high life, when fate struck a cruel blow. She began having severe headaches, and the occasional blackouts, which she initially dismissed as symptoms of stress. It was only when she lashed out at Nairne for no good reason that she realised there was something very wrong. Two weeks ago, she received the diagnosis. She had a terminal brain tumour. The doctors didn't know how long she had left; weeks or months, but perhaps the most cruel irony of all was that it would eventually rob her of one of the things she held most dear. Her sight.

St. Edit: Just restoring a paragraph accidentally omitted from the bio.

 

Hello everyone,

it is my honor to announce myself as the Assistant-GM of Rachel Tyrell for this game. In the tradition of her former games I will not have any plot control, but only have one function. I will play several key-NPC´s to give them some extra-attention. While Rachel will concentrate on the overall plot.

We have a name for this position. We call it Nonplayer-character-only-Game-Manager.

Or in short: No-GM.

I will also act as Head-GM once she is gone for any extended period of time. Therefore I will know of all relevant plot-points and be ready to answer any questions concerning those.

My first duty is my first pleasure.

Ladies, Gentleman . . .

~The Roster~

Game Manager RachelTyrell

No-GM DarkLordoftheFins

Alice Monroe played by SirakRomar

Ceana McGillivray-Rivera played by Kira-Shay

Fiona Bell played by Twinky-Stryder

John Rosenberg played by Saintheart

Logan Reese played by Reynar_Tedros

Melissa Burton played by Trimaj



Soon Rachel will post several basic principles of this game and how it will be done. After that, all of you can expect the game to begin on Sunday. We aim for one update a week by all players.

Welcome everyone to ~Beyond~

your No-GM


-Fin-

 

~Beyond~

This is my last note with general information about the game. On Sunday DarkLordoftheFins will do an opening-post and right after that the game begins.

In many ways this game will be different from the usual games played on such boards. therefore I´ll address some things of notions and after that I´ll address some questions that I have been frequently asked in the last days.

Please read this, if you are a player of ~Beyond~


I. ID and Tag

Please TAG others with User names of the people playing the character. Me and DarkLordoftheFins are only tagged GM.

As in every game we do ID´s in the beginning mentioning character name and place. There is one special information we´ll need from all of you. Time.
Time is of great importance in this game because only occasionally you will all be in the same time. We use the military code for time.

5´o clock in the afternoon is 1700. 5 o´clock in the morning is 0500.

Example:

Rachel Tyrell, Living Room, 2220



II. Updates

We won´t have regular updates for all, as other games but will update when we see it is needed. Either through a GM-post by me. Or through an NPC reaction by Fin. We hope for an update by every player within´ seven days and will move the character if we need to, but in general we don´t consider this to be a high-speed game. Quality above speed, so to say.



III. FAQ´s

Several questions have come up while PMing with fellow players. I´ll address them all in the open once. So we all know the same.

1. How much adult content will this game have?

None. It is a strictly psychological horror game. Using narrative and plot to scare players. It is not a very brutal of bloody game at all.
At this point I would like to stress that these are boards where young people read and surf. We make a serious effort here to not harm them in any way. I assume you all are with me, here. But sometimes the flow of words has a will of his own and sometimes one simply forgets the rules. So let me say it once, so nobody can´t say we haven´t talked about it:Do not break any of the Rules of the RPF, do not post any sexual content, do not use any gore-scenes or otherwise extreme violence and do not link to any of the above.

2. Where does the game take place?

In a generic American city. A metropolis of sorts. The best and worst of all huge cities. It is our intend not to use any real city. And if we ever write about it, we prefer to refer only to The City.

3. Is this story completely linear, therefore we can only play through scenes with results given?

No. You have a lot of influence on the story of the game. But like real life, some thing happen beyond your control. And will happen anyway.

4. When does the game take place?

It begin on the night of the 13. February 2008 and lasts over the course of the 14th, 15th and ends on the 16th February 2008.

5. How long is the game?

To guess posts is a difficult business, but I would call it a short game. A lot shorter than most, at least. It has three acts for sure and dead characters won´t be replaced. As some of you will die, we will get fewer players in time.

6. Is it your first game?

No, I have some experience GMing and it is only my first game here. So, while I may have my own style developed from a different background I know what I am doing. But I may not always know all the customs around here. So help me out there.

7. Which NPC´s will Fin play?

We will work that out on the road. In your opening PM you will all learn if he plays one interacting with you.

8. When the hell do we begin?

Sunday. On Sunday Fin posts for one of the NPCs. After that you all receive PMs. These PMs tell you where you begin and at what time. Then you can post a character introduction about something you do BEFORE the date. You can make sure you write yourself right into the first scene or post something of years before. Scenes (NPC

 

Enough talk, people . . . let´s begin . . .

---

[b]The Five Things I Love[/b] [i]by Jackson Clay[/i]

1. Single Malt Scotch served pure in a tumbler
2. Alice legs in tight Jeans
3. Silent Movies from the twenties
4. The scent of burning flesh
5. The Talking Heads

[link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EsYsMo-QxnI&feature=related] Not necessary in that order. [/link]

I have done these lists for the last few days and I must say, it is a good time to end that habit. It get´s boring.

I´m in a good mood. I am not alone. Even though I probably am with the whole good-mood-thing.

"Wake up, lazy." I hear myself say. I must be careful as I light my cigarette. Petrol everywhere. I should have smoked first, then prepared. When I entered the basement it had just all been such a routine. I had bound him to the chair and the petrol was simply at hand. So careless of me. Then again, what do I fear?

I can´t keep myself from singing. Not really my usual habit. Euphoria. Must be.
[i]
You might get what you're after
Cool babies
Strange but not a stranger
I'm an ordinary guy
Burning down the house[/i]

Dancing around this guy makes me feel silly. I like silly. It adds a little intimacy to the otherwise sterile act of enlightenment. And murder.

"Wake up, Sir. Wake up, wake up, wake up."
[i]
Shakedown dreams walking in broad daylight
Three hun-dred six-ty five de-grees
Burning down the house[/i]

"Nobody says it like the Talking Heads, do they?" I grin as the guy begins to regain consciousness. I love that moment. Should have added it to my list.

Holding up my cigarette I breath it´s smoke into his face. A second and the older man will understand the smell of petrol and the sight of a glowing cigarette. His mind will make the link and send in a warning signal that will be a little too much for his capacity, resulting in the most sweet reaction a human is capable of. Panic.

Before that happens I want to have my say. Because otherwise he won´t listen.

"Time to see the world for what it really is, Mr. Rosenberg. Time to burn."

[i]
It was once upon a place sometimes I listen to myself
Gone come in first place
People on their way to work baby what did you expect
Gonna burst into flame[/i]

[link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ozc70JPGRMQ]~Beyond~[/link]


[hr]

Four days before these events the game will begin. Now it is time for your introductions. [u][i][b]Please read your PMs. [/b][/i][/u]

And welcome to [hl=black][b][color=yellow]~Beyond~[/color][/b][/hl]

 

IC: Logan Reese
Crime scene, 1920 hours

If I could start again,
a million miles away.
I would keep myself.
I would find a way.

He let the song finish before he turned the key. The car's clock read 7:20 when the engine died, and Logan sat back in the driver's seat for a minute. The bright red and blue sirens going back and forth irritated his vision, so he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He pulled down the shade in front of him on the ceiling of the car, and ignored his scruffy reflection in the mirror behind it. A picture of a young girl was pinned to it, and he stared at it for a moment, and put the shade back up. He took the keys out of the ignition and put them in the pocket of his coat and opened the door and got out of the car.

He saw Mercer standing not too far away. He flashed his badge idly to one of the cops in front of the yellow tape that surrounded the house and approached the detective.

"Depress me," he said.

Tag: GM

 

IC - John Rosenberg
Rivera residence, 1840 hours

Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby
Edgy and dull
And cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my soul...
...At night I wake up with the sheets soakin' wet
And a freight train runnin' through the middle of my head
Only you--

Rosenberg changed stations, and Springsteen's sepulchral tenor was replaced by a cheery radio announcer's voice: "...And we'll have more on that one as the news comes in. Some good news, now, after Samuel Flores, the arsonist nicknamed the Candlemaker--"

Aw Christ. He reached to change stations again, but a taxi dived in front of him, bringing his hands back to the wheel of the Chevy Impala to avoid a near-certain collision. Amid a screech of tyres and a carhorn wielded like a weapon, the cheery girl on the radio continued on with her account: "--was convicted by unanimous verdict after concluding a three-day trial earlier today. Sentencing has been deferred for three weeks' time, and there was no comment from the prosecutor assigned to the case, John Rosenberg, although this makes it the third successive arson trial he's brought to a successful finish."

Rosenberg finally found the on/off knob, and resumed his course down the well-lit streets. He was tired; his beard was itching, his glasses were forming a welt on the bridge of his nose, and he was, not for the first time, heartily sick of the law and every one in it.

It was the inevitable coming-down from the verdict - that exquisite moment when the foreman of the jury said the word "Guilty", and the rush of endorphins as you realised you'd done it, they concurred with you, and the accused was going to jail. Every trial lawyer knew it; savoured it; found it better than substances or alcohol, unless they couldn't get enough of the high and turned to drugs to keep it going in their private lives.

TAG: GM

 

Alice, Kyle´Corner, 1815

no, it's a joke, I'm not driving anymore
I can't keep up with you
you're closing in behind
I've got headlight in my eyes
don't get too close to me
can't you see that we'll collide

Rob Dougan. He was British, she believed. She would have loved to go to the UK at least once in her life. Singing along loud, she danced through her home. Kyle´s Corner. Kyle´s. The place she lived, drank, cried and worked. The place that had made her stay. And it wasn´t a place of much glory. A rundown little shabby place, filled with lost souls who hide in their alcoholic dreams of failure and regret. Damaged. Like her. It was a perfect fit. Her and Kyle´s Corner.
These days she quite much ran the whole bar. Kyle´s idea of giving her an income was to tell her she should get what she needed and give the other girls what was fair. He trusted her. Which originally made him appear stupid. Despite that she hadn´t betrayed him even once.

and then because of this
it's just all wrong
I'm not driving anymore
I can't keep up with you
so leave me on my own


She screamed out almost. Her anger at all the persons who had ruined her, foremost herself. And him, of course. The guy she loved. Once. Love, was something for losers. Dougan perfectly understood. And that´s why she began her shifts with him. Having hundreds illegally downloaded albums to choose from, that was quite a choice.

She finally cleaned the last table. Clean them before and after every shift. All tool for mixing in their proper places. All refrigerators filled. Brought yourself into the right mood? Yeah, she forgot that. Shaking her body over to the bar, dancing, she took her Budweiser, waiting for her there. She took a mouth full and smiled. None of their customers would ever see her dancing. Not even Logan. But she did it a lot. Her little secret. Only her and Rob Dougan knew.


get me out of harmsway
can't you see I'm paralysed
I wanna fade out gracefully
but you keep keeping me alive
to face another day
can't you see I'm through
I'm not driving anymore
I can't keep up with you


She wasn´t driving anymore.


Tag: RachelTyrell, DarkLordoftheFins (from now on called Fin again)

 

IC: Ceana McGillivray-Rivera
~ Sunday 25th January 2009, Burns Night Celebration at World-Art Gallery, 2100 ~

---

[blockquote][color=indigo]"An' cut you up wi' ready slicht,"[/color]

The ceremonial sword plunged into the haggis with practiced skill as the occupants of the hall cheered with delight. [b]Ceana[/b] took the chance to look around the gallery; ten large tables filled with a sea of faces, each watching with an awed rapture. Most of the Americans before her had never been to Scotland, let alone a Burns Night. As such, the event had proved a popular curiosity with the rich and famous, raising a lot of money for the American Cancer Foundation. And a worthy cause it was too. They'd been so kind to John and Andrea; this was the least she could do. Once the ruckus finally came to an end, Ceana continued the rather lengthy poem, embellishing parts with excessive over-acting as only she could.

[color=seagreen]****[/color]

[color=purple]"Nicely done, sweetheart."[/color]

[b]Kian[/b] kissed her gently on the cheek as she met him after the meal. [color=purple]"And you look stunning in that dress." [/color] Ceana raised an eyebrow; he knew full well that she hated all the glitz; she was much happier in her work slacks any day. Ceana took a step back, pretending to critique his outfit for a moment; he certainly cut a dashing figure in his tux, but there was one thing that she didn't approve of.

[color=indigo]"Although you look undeniably handsome in that suit, Mr. Rivera, you would have gained more points for wearing your kilt."[/color]

Kian gave her a look of mock remorse, followed by a flash of his impish grin; the one he always used when he knew he'd done something she wouldn't like. Ceana had lost count of how many arguments that grin had thwarted over the years. Before Kian had a chance to explain himself, namely that he disliked the kilt as much as she disliked her dress, a pretty auburn-haired girl barrelled into Ceana's side.

[color=purple]"Mommy! Guess who I just met!"[/color]

[color=indigo]"[b]Nairne[/b], aren't you supposed to be getting ready to leave? It's nearly your bedtime..."[/color]

[color=purple]"Aw, but Mommy..." [/color] she protested, using her own sympathy-gaining look. One of those tricks she'd inherited from her father. However, this time, it didn't cut the ice.

[color=indigo]"No buts, young lady. Get your coat."[/color]

Nairne pouted sulkily before disappearing once more into the sea of people. Ceana looked at Kian; [color=indigo]"I think you're going to have fun getting her to sleep tonight."[/color]

He nodded wearily - it had been a long day for all of them. And it wasn't even half-way through for Ceana; as the host she'd probably be there until midnight at the earliest, a thought she didn't entirely relish.

[color=indigo]"Will you be Ok taking her hom...?"[/color]

Ceana's eyes glazed over mid-sentence as Kian dove forward to catch her. She slumped into his arms, unconscious. Several bystanders stared, frozen with indecision, the effect quickly spreading, leaving the whole gallery in silence. One guest finally bought a chair and Kian lowered Ceana's now rousing form gently onto it.

[color=indigo]"I'm alright... Just the heat." [/color] She managed weakly. Someone handed her a glass of water, which she gratefully accepted.

[color=purple]"That may be the case, but you're coming home with me, [i]now[/i]. Lucas can take care of things here."[/color]

Kian nodded to the owner of the gallery, who took his cue to make an announcement on stage, drawing the crowd's attention away from them. Kian wrapped an arm around Ceana's waist and led her to the car, an anxious Nairne in tow.

[/blockquote][hr]
[i]~ Friday 13th February 2009, Ceana's Studio, Rivera Residence, 1430 ~[/i]

[hr]
[blockquote][i][color=purple]"Ceana! What are you doing?!"[/color][/i]

Kian's words and horrified expression were etched on Ceana's mind. That Burn's Night was also the night she lashed out at her daughter. Thankfully Kian had been there to stop her.

 

We´ll begin early tomorrow, as all players have posted their intro well ahead of time. And the only one who hasn´t has probably vanished.

Thank you all for your effort. These first posts are amazing.

~Rachel

 

OOC: I didn't vanish, I just had a lot of university work this week.

IC: Fiona Bell
Apartment 1973 Brookhaven Apartments 1840


Rummaging through one of the boxes of kitchen supplies which lay on the peeling lino floor, Fiona pulled out something which could have been a wisk, but really she had no idea. It was in one of the boxes of old junk the landlady said she could have when she moved in. Over the past few days Fiona had felt an urge to clean the whole apartment, it happened every now and then since she'd been out of the program. As she figured it was something that kept her busy which was harmless, so there was nothing wrong with it.
Standing up and brushing the layer of dust off he jeans, Fiona looked over to the clock on the kitchen counter, 6:20. There was still alot of time before work, so she walked into the sitting area of the main room of the apartment and flopped onto the sofa, turning on the radio. There was an indie rock song playing, nothing she really liked or disliked.
She closed her eyes, getting a bit of rest before she had to leave.

TAG: any

 

OOC: been sick and unable to sleep as a result. haven't forgotten. will post tomorrow.

:snoopy

 

~Beyond-Theme~



-No man remains quite what he was when he recognizes himself.-
Thomas Mann (1875 - 1955)

---

[u][b]Part I - Right Where It Belongs[/b][/u]

[hr]

[i]13th February 2009[/i]
[link=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rkcQpGhv5Os&feature=related]
[i][b]Somewhere[/b][/i]
[/link]
The City was never sleeping. So they said. They were wrong. The City was never really awake. The City was never really dead. The City was never really alive. Probably, Jason thought, there was no City. Then again there was movement.

Action and Reaction. Cause and Consequence. Weren´t that signs of life?

In it´s veins, the endless system of streets and elevators, tunnels, houses, constructs and subways one man could get lost. And even thou a man wasn´t alone in the city. A soul could be. Isolation was a binary choice. Already made, when it came to consciousness of it´s victim.
Then again, what could be expected in a world build on lies. Producing lies and disguising them as information. That they lived together to lie to each other for all eternity?

Isolation was an answer. Obviously it was the question that was the problem.

The City was a disgusting place. Jason entered it reluctantly.

[hr]

[i][b]The Rivera Residence, 1957[/b][/i]

John Rosenberg arrived just in time. He hadn´t been to the Rivera´s for quite some time but had been unable to resist Kian Rivera´s dedicated charm to come by that evening and have a glass of wine. The rumors of Kian´s wife´s failing health did not make it any easier. It was John and his wife at least, who had originally introduced Kian to the talented painter and friend of them Ceana McGillivray.

Kian opened the door, as he saw John approach. Wearing Jeans and a white shirt he looked like anything but an attorney. Just the way Kian liked it. But despite his habit of taking things easy and with a sense of humor, something deeply concerned carried through his gestures, as he raised his hand to greet his old friend. "John, how are you?" He smiled. "Good you have come. I´ve already send our little wildcat to get her mother." He smiled. A false smile.


Nairne felt uneasy as her mother didn´t awake immediately. Even more uneasy that her mother was still holding her brush in her hand, red colour dripping from it like blood and soaking into her white work-gown. Mommy asked what time it was. Nairne ignored the question. Concentrating her mind on more important things. "Uncle John is here." She said and turned away from her mother running down to greet her Uncle.
As Ceana slowly woke up, she suddenly realized she had oprobably not been asleep, as she thought. Her canvas in front of her was not empty anymore. And a huge white piece of paper had been clipped to it. On it where three sentences written with a brush.

[color=darkred][b]Who are you? Hate your pictures. You like mine?[/b][/color]

And behind this sheet was a dark picture. Realistic like a photography, but only a tenth of it finished. It contained structures unlike any existed in The City. One could see huge skyscrapers who looked old and rotten. High and majestic in a dark way. Their masks of glass were broken but they raised out of an yet unpainted environment like skeletons of concrete and iron. As one looked closer one could see in the most left-sided of them a hint of a silhouette. A man looking out of a no longer existent window. The feeling of death and decay came with the colours. Rusty red, pale green, grey. The figure was done in a deep black and it seemed to be staring at the environment beneath. Or was it the beholder it looked at?

"Darling you´re alright?" Kian shouted from the ground level. Then smiled to John a little embarrassed. "When she works she is a little absent."
John had no time to answer, as Nairne came running embracing the elder man like only children could. "John!" She shouted out.

[b]Tag: Kira-Shay, Fin, Saintheart[/b]

[hr]

[i][b]"Robertson-Family"-Crime Scene[/b][/i]

"Depress me." Logan asked of Jus

 

IC: Logan Reese
Robertson family crime scene; 1930 hours

Ten years ago, if he would have had the displeasure to witness the disturbing sight before his eyes, Logan likely would have scrambled out of the room and vomited on the floor like a madman. Now, however, he just looked on with emotionless eyes. He saw the two kids and instantly thought of his daughter, and his eyes became a little less cold. He saw the wife. And he saw the blood.

"I'm gonna need a beer after this," he said to Mercer. He scratched his stubbly chin with his thumb. "I assume we've got units looking for Mister Robertson?"

Tag: GM

 

IC: Fiona Bell
Kyle's Corner 1920

Fiona looked up from wiping glasses as the handsome customer spoke. She laughed and flashed a coy smile.
"Well I don't really know about that, never really asked to tell you the truth."
She placed the glass she'd been wiping with the rest of the clean ones and took a new glass and preceeded to start wiping that. She'd learned that flirting with customers was a bad idea, but he seemed nice enough.
"So, same again?" She asked, indicating his empty drink glass.


TAG: GM,SirakRomar

 

ooc: SirakRomar can´t post dueto software problems. I made this on the phone with her andit is a combined post.

Customer/Jack
Kyle´s Corner, 1922

The Customer watched her polishing the glass. "So, some again?" She asked.
He nodded. "Absolutley." He grinned. And offered his glass. "By the way I am," he took up his driver license as if to proof his identity. "Jack."

"Hope you aren´t looking for your money in there, Jack." Alice said a little more sharp than she had wanted to. Jack gave her a long look then his eyes moved up and down on her. "Nope. Paying customer." He said and raised two 50 dollar to the air, just like the driver license before. "Just looking through my wallet. So, what´s your name, beauties?"

Tag: Twinky_Stryder, SirakRomar

 

Melissa Burton/ Miles Motors/ 0645 Feb 13th

Pulling out her key, Melissa thought for once she'd finally managed to beat Bob into the shop. A smile crossed her thin lips, and as she turned the key in the knob she heard some noise inside. Sighing softly she entered the shop and looked took it all in. This had become more her home than her technical home, and she knew every grease spot, tool and dint in the wall as well as she knew her den floor. Shaking her head, she followed the clinking noises to a truck that was up on the blocks. "D-dammit O-old Man. What t-t-time d-do I have to g-get here?" A soft chuckle told her all she needed to know, really.

Bob Miles pulled himself out from under the truck. He was in his seventies, and looked it. Deep creases from the frequent smiles that lit up his face created shadows in strange places. His green eyes twinkled, and he still had a thick mane of white hair on his head complimented by the bushy beard. His nose had obviously been broken a number of times, and he was still a powerfully built man. Particularly his hands. They were very obviously those of a mechanic. All of this belied the bad back that he refused to have anything done about, and knees that were just starting to give him trouble. His deep voice boomed out, "Earlier than you, nuts. Always will be, and that's all ya need to know." Wiping his hands on his jumper, "Go get yerself kitted out. I need some help with this old ford tony brought in. Something's wrong with the tranny..." and his voice trailed off and became muffled as he slid back under the truck.

That was Bob, nice but busy and really the only person she was truly comfortable with. She certainly talked more with him than anyone else. No coffee this morning. With that thought she headed off to get changed.

---

[b]1900[/b]

It had been a long day, made even longer by her rather imetuous attempt to get there before Bolts. The old country music he liked blared from the radio, as it had been all day. They were really done for the day, as the door was now locked. This was the time that they spent puttering about and working on things for themselves. Generally it was stuff for their own cars, which on the outside really weren't much to look at. But if someone who knew cars were to look under the hoods? Well, both were well beyond what they had been originally. Bob's had been with him for well over forty years, and was a REALLY old ford unlike the one that Tony drove. Melissa tended to call it ancient, just like Bob. Her own car was a beatup looking monte carlo made back in '93. It didn't have any original parts left on it, and even the interior had been redone.

At the moment, she was tinkering with a new carberator she was gonna be installing over the weekend. True, it was well built but it was new. She'd always had this thing about going over new things and making them even better. Everyonce in a while the Old Man would come look what she was doing over and make a few suggestions. Everytime he did that she realized just how much left to learn there was, but she had the patience. At least machines didn't want her to talk to them.

Time passed and about twenty minutes later Bob asked if she could lock up for him. Having to hide a wince at the way he was moving, she said she would do so. He was leaving a bit earlier than normal, but at least it wasn't his back doing that. "Ju-Just make s-sure it's leg-git O-Old M-Man." Giving her a nod, he bundled up and headed out in to the night. Sure, she did this most of the time now, as he'd been leaving it up to her the last few months. He'd hinted that when he retired (like that was ever going to happen), he was going to leave her the shop. But part of it was that he just needed to go home after a long day and soak his back.

Deciding against staying any later herself, Melissa went about locking everything down. It was an extremely familiar routine by now, and was quite relaxing. She had changed the radio to something that suited her a bit more.

[i]One day I feel I'm on top of the world

 

IC: Ceana McGillivray-Rivera
~ Friday 13th February 2009, Ceana's Studio, Rivera Residence, 1959 ~

---

[blockquote][i][color=purple]"Uncle John is here."[/color][/i]

With that, [b]Nairne[/b] turned tail and ran off in the direction of the front door. [b]Ceana[/b] rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the tiredness. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the note attached to her canvas;

[b][color=darkred]Who are you? Hate your pictures. You like mine?[/b][/color]

Ceana read the words slowly, mind still fuzzy. Who? What? A furtive glance around the room confirmed that no one was in her studio and there were no signs of forced entry. How had they got in? It was only when she took a second glance at the painting that it struck her. A shiver ran down her spine; surely [i]she[/i] hadn't painted it? [i]I was asleep, wasn't I?[/i]

[i][color=purple]"Darling are you alright?"[/color][/i]

[b]Kian's[/b] voice drifted up the stairs, the ever present tinge of concern more prominent than usual. Should she tell him about the painting? Yes, but not now. She had to pretend everything was normal.

[color=indigo]"Yes..."[/color] she answered in a rather shaky voice, giving away more than she had intended. Clearing her throat, Ceana tried again; [color=indigo]"Yes, I'll be down in a minute."[/color]

A thought popped into Ceana's mind as she went to remove her overalls. Wasn't there that guy in that programme - Heroes? The one that painted the future without being consciously aware of it? She'd only seen snippets during her channel flicking sprees, but that character had always intrigued her, even if the rest of the show was rather uninspiring. Ceana shook her head; there was a very good reason that was considered fiction and just entertaining such thoughts would lead even [i]her[/i] to question her sanity. She took one more look at the painting before throwing a sheet over the canvas; she'd have to work through it later. Ceana rinsed her hands in a sink to remove the crimson paint that had snaked its way from her paintbrush, noting the rather pale reflection staring back at her in the mirror.

[color=darkred][b]Who are you?[/b][/color]

Throwing some water on her face bought the colour back; [i]everything is normal[/i]. Taking a deep breath, Ceana stepped out of the studio, closing the door firmly behind her.

As she descended the stairs she saw Kian with [b]John[/b], who was being affectionately attacked by her daughter. She waited for Nairne to disappear in search of her latest prize to show their guest before she kissed John on the cheek;

[color=indigo]"John, it's so good to see you." [/color]

[color=darkred][b]Hate your pictures. You like mine?[/b][/color]

Ceana couldn't escape those words, the invisible stare of the black silhouette. She couldn't stand it anymore, she had to know she wasn't going mad. Turning to Kian, she gave him a no-nonsense look;

[color=indigo]"There's something wrong with my easel. Could you have a quick look at it for me, please?"[/color]

If she had just imagined the whole thing, as she hoped, then she'd just get the usual playful retribution for being paranoid that her equipment was falling apart. If not, she didn't like to think how Kian would react. Ceana returned her attention to John, ushering him into the lounge as she spoke;

[color=indigo]"So how did the case go? You certainly look like you could do with a break, or a good night's sleep at the least."[/color][/blockquote]

[b]Tag: Saintheart, GM[/b]