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Guess The Roleplayer!

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I had had the chance to re-visit some of my old roleplay posts on the old S*T, and I couldn't recognise a lot of them, even though they obstinately insisted that the poster's name was "herculehastings". And I started comparing the styles of my posts now with the styles of the posts in the past. It's all very interesting, so I shall play a short game with you guys. I'm going to put up a few samples of roleplay posts, and you have to guess who wrote them. These people are definitely members of the current iteration of S*T as well. If this goes well I may continue with more samples, but we'll start with 3 now.



The spotless, automatic glass doors slid open, granting passage to two suited men dragging a bloodied third. The latter's feet scraped on the marble steps as he was pulled up unceremoniously, and dumped on the gold-patterned floor in front of a large, matching desk. The two suited men immediately turned and left once more, leaving the captive to groan and bleed out on the floor.

Behind the desk sat a stern-faced man in his thirties. He raised a finger to slowly sweep away a stray strand of hair that had fallen down across his forehead, disturbing his otherwise handsome and clean-cut appearance. It seemed that it was only then that he noticed his guest on the floor, his dark blue eyes locking onto him. He stood up from his expensive leather chair and walked around to the front of his desk, dress shoes echoing ominously with each step. He wore a suit like his two employees did, however while they were in black with white shirts, he wore a striking red shirt with his black suit, and no tie.

"Mr..." he began, his eyebrows narrowing in a brief moment of focus, before he produced the next word, "Leith. You know why you are here."

"N-no, I-I-" the man struggled.

"It was not a question." came the cold interruption. "You know who I am."

"Lance M-m-" the man coughed violently, sputtering more blood on the floor.

"Lance Mason. Yes." Lance finished for him, "And so you know that if you want to die you will not keep secrets from me." he looked down with an expression of disgust at the thoroughly-beaten man. He could not be recognized through the bruises and blood.

People knew that the thing to fear most about Lance Mason was not that he would kill you if you didn't cooperate, for on the contrary, those that refused to cooperate were kept alive until such time that they would. What was to fear was that Lance was a heartless man who spared not the slightest hesitation to have unwilling guests tortured until they relented. There was the well-known story of one man in particular, who'd been kept alive for that purpose for weeks, until, inevitably, Lance was able to extract the information he needed.

A smile broke across Lance's face suddenly. "That's it, good." he said, to the astonishment of his guest, who'd not said a word yet. "Thankyou, I have what I need now. Enjoy the peace of death."

As if on cue, his two suited henchmen stormed back in and dragged the completely confused captive away. A gunshot was heard not long after, from out in the hall.

Lance sat back down at his desk and picked up his phone, pressing a button on the keypad. "It's in the graveyard downtown, hidden buried under a blank headstone. Take everything and kill everyone, make that place into a proper tomb." and with that he was about to hang up, before thinking to add "And send someone up here to clean the floor."



A shirt hit the floor, followed by a pair of expensive jeans, and was soon joined by a pair of Calvin Klein boxers. But the garments weren’t interesting to the blonde female in the room, who had watched the removal of clothing with a very speculative eye. Oh no, what they had revealed was far more appealing to her, and startling blue eyes sluggishly trailed upwards over heavily muscled thighs, packed abdominals and tight pectorals. Really, it would have been rude not to admire, and the only downside was that she wasn’t able to stick around and really enjoy everything that fine body had to offer. Sam would be arriving at any moment, and she doubted that her boyfriend would appreciate arriving at the party to find her having sex with someone else.

Serena Westwick was everything a rich girl was expected to be – beautiful, intelligent and determined. Her smile held pearly white teeth; her words were kind and her intentions good. Holding her status to an even higher peak was the work she had done for charity and to top it off, she was dating the Mayor’s son, Sam Rochester. The perfect, ideal couple, whom everyone expected to marry someday, so that the good Rochester name could continue within the sanctity of marriage.

And, it was all bullshit.

Each and every smile was false, intentions were cruel and the charity work was forced. Why spend time helping others when you could do something more worthwhile that could ultimately help yourself? Of course, the image of a perfect daughter wasn’t hard to maintain. She had been pretending since the age of fifteen, when she had lost her virginity and ultimately discovered the far more interesting world of alcohol, sex and general partying. Drugs factored into the equation occasionally, but hiding a drug habit wasn’t as easy as films made it out, and she had too much riding on her flawless reputation to risk it in such a way. Besides, the things she could get away with she did as often as possible, and as Sam hadn’t been able to actually attend the party with her, playthings had been found.


She finally looked into the face of the male before her, smirking darkly as he grinned at her in a way that expected attention, and fast. Such a shame really, that it would all be going to waste, a fine opportunity missed, but looking had to suffice when touching was really off limits, and Serena made the most of everything she got.

“Your turn.â€

He stepped towards her in all his glory, and all she did in return was glance at her watch and shake her head. Really, these moments were so cruel; she enjoyed her playtime.

“Oh no, I have to go, but very nice.â€

His grin instantly fell, disappointment and anger meshing together with sexual frustration that wasn’t going to be released and she quickly made her exit before he could try something stupid. The music practically slapped her in the face as she stepped out into the hallway, and where it had been a dull hum previously, it was now a full on crescendo of noise against her ear drums. It didn’t improve her already sour mood, and Sam’s absence was really starting to annoy her. Times like this made her wish that he had just decided not to come, which would leave her with as many guys as she wanted, as well as the beautiful specimen behind the door who was most likely still naked and waiting.

If she wasn’t having sex tonight, then neither was he.

Punishing Sam in such a way was almost pathetically easy, as he believed the same cock and bull story the rest of New York did. So what if she didn’t want to have sex one night? He just assumed she was tired or just didn’t want to and said no more of it. As her boyfriend, he should know her better than most, and yet he was the one who felt the brunt of her deceit. Sleeping around didn’t make her feel guilty, she didn’t care that it could hurt him and the only reason she didn’t tell him was because she needed her mask fully in place. If he actually satisfied her needs in bed then she might be more inclined to be faithful, but as she had never told him what she wanted, he just assumed she was fine. Although, having her pick of the guys was too much fun anyway, and sleeping with one guy for the rest of her life just wasn’t going to cut it. Variety, as they say, is the spice of life, and she abused it as much as possible.

Heading downstairs, she didn’t stop to appreciate the fine decor of the large apartment, or the expensive art on the walls. All she currently wanted was a drink, and possibly a line or two, just to cheer her up. But doing drugs in a place like this was generally too risky and with Sam’s arrival drawing closer like impending doom, she had to at least try to behave herself. Alcohol would have to do the job all by itself tonight, otherwise she would end up punching someone.

The music was at its loudest on the ground floor, and it didn’t take her long to find a drink to help drown her sorrows. The contents of the bottle were unknown, she hadn’t bothered to look when she had poured it into the cup, but from the smell she guessed vodka. Adding a mixer of some sort would have to happen before Sam showed up, but she could have it straight for now.

Taking a large sip and ignoring the burn, she wandered into the crowd of people, hoping that something would happen to cure her mindless boredom.
 A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

The music swells as the view pans in onto a massive starship drifting in the inky black wastes of space. It is currently cruising at full power towards an uncharted, verdant green planet, while a deep, booming voice starts making some needless exposition on the plot...

Unfortunately, this is no tale of brave explorers going where no one has gone before, as life never obliges you by being that epic. Yes, there is actually a starship floating near a verdant green planet, but most of the planet's available beachfront property is used up by kitschy 5-star resorts, so it couldn't be said to be uncharted. And besides, it was currently being dwarfed by the colossal wedge-shaped battlecruiser gaining up on it...

Our hero, a certain tourist from the isolated theocracy of Qrrbrbirlbel named Rothus, happens to be standing on the observation deck of the smaller ship mentioned above, and has been idly drinking gin and tonics while telling a bored-looking Xlingitian about his previous holiday.

"You know, I actually met Darth Vader. He's not really as scary as that sci-fi director made him out to be..."

Suddenly, Rothus felt the ambient temperature drop several notches. The Xlingitian muttered, "Oh, thanks for ruining my fondest childhood memories. Now, I think I'll go to the toilet, won't I?" and strode off in a huff, leaving Rothus standing there, wondering what he had said to upset him.


The battlecruiser had finally closed up on the tour ship that it had been pursuing, and had just locked it in place with a series of tractor beams. As panicked red-shirted security personnel started grabbing their Zap Guns and rushing into position, several long, narrow boarding tubes snaked from the battlecruiser's underbelly and latched onto the ship, disgorging several squads of white-armoured robots onto the ship.

After a brief firefight, it was over. The robots stepped over the smoking corpses of the fallen security personnel and continued heading deeper into the bowels of the ship.

One of the robots gestured to its leader, intoning, <<<Your orders, Commander.>>>

The leader nodded, intoning, <<<Split up and search the ship. The Significant One is somewhere on this ship. He will not be hard to spot; he is wearing a most ridiculous mode of dress.>>>

Back to our tourist...

Suddenly, klaxons started blaring throughout the ship, and the PA Systems started announcing, "Our ship is currently being attacked by unknown hijackers. Do not panic, as the situation is under control. I repeat, DO NOT PANIC, for the situati-" Suddenly, the PA system broadcasted the sounds of gunfire across the ship, and Rothus heard screams in the background. A little voice in his head yelled, "Run!" but Rothus stood sedately there, and murmured, "Ethnic!"

Suddenly, a different, monotonous voice crackled over the loudspeakers. <<<How are you, gentlemen? All your ship are belong to us. You are on your way to destruction. You have no chance to survive make your time. Ha ha ha.>>> There was a pause, and there was a collective gasp of "What did you say?" from all the passengers on board. The voice replied, <<<Now, hand over the Significant One. He is wearing a most ridiculous mode of dress -- a straw hat, humongous sunglasses, a floral print shirt and socks with sandals. If you comply, we will make your deaths a little less painful. >>>

There was a shocked silence. Rothus made a crude self-examination, realized his appearance was an exact match of the Significant One, and then prudently rushed towards the escape pod bays.


You can always guess the gender if you can't figure out the identity of the person. XD

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Lemme guess...


The first one is Timey, I think. The 'tell' to me is the line 'a gunshot was heard'; Timey likes his passive sentences.


I'm guessing the second one is Miel, but I'm not quite sure. The delicious manflesh is probably what's making me guess that.

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No, I don't think the first one is me. I don't remember writing that.

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Somehow, I vaguely recall that you actually did write the first one. 


I'm going to pretend I never guessed the third one. But that guy seems like a tool. *Whistle*

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The last line of the second one seems particularly indicative of a certain style, to me. That is, the sort of "okay I've got nothing left to do in my post now, my partner(s) should bring their characters in and start interacting" feel. That's at least one reason it shouldn't be Miel's (aside from the preference for non-hetero stuff, unlike that post), because in my experience Miel tended to have more deliberately chosen partners and smoother transitions between posts. That end to the second post looks like what you get when someone is RPing with relative strangers, and so has to drop that overt hint for them to get on the scene.

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Indeed, the first post is not Octy's, and neither is the second post Miel's. I'm going to give you guys Multiple-Choice.


FIRST POST: Is it...


1. DayDreamer?

"AHHHHHHH!" a girl's voice screamed as she hurtled toward the pool. She meant to stop before Teiko, but as she did, her ample bust jutted out just enough to bounce against him, pushing him off balance, and into the pool along with the boy he'd been trying to help climb out. A big splash and glare later, Yamauchi Yutaka was bowing and apologizing profusely "Sorry sorry! I was just so excited, it's been a long time since I've seen that level of swimmer, and we desperately need another guy in the swim club!"


Yutaka held out her clipboard, which had sheets with photos and bios of various guys, some of them crossed out, some with the photos seemingly torn out. "I've been going through all viable options but none of them want to join! Some won't even take off their shirts for me - how am I supposed to check if they've the requisite swimmer's body? Honestly, guys can be so difficult." she pouted. "Anyway, come along then you two, let's go to the club room and get..." she flipped through her clipboard and found the face of their new recruit-to-be, "... Aiko signed up!"


She didn't pay much heed to Teiko's grumbling about being pushed in and having his uniform soaked. The clubroom was adjacent to the pool, and the entrance featured a tiled floor and drain conducive to dripping swimmers coming in. There were several filing cabinets larger than Yutaka herself at the back of the room, and she stood on her tiptoes to reach the uppermost drawer, struggling to grab at the registration forms. Fortunately, by the time the guys had dried off sufficiently to enter the main area of the clubroom and take a seat, she had managed to get one of the forms. She straightened out her uniform, pushed up her red-framed glasses, and brushed her short black hair our of her face.


"Now! Just fill in all your details and you'll officially be the fourth member of our swim team!" she slammed the form down on the table and looked at Aiko with a falsely sweet smile - her teeth were actually grinding, her hand was clawing in the table, and her green eyes seemed to glow with evil intent: she would flip out if Aiko refused her as well. "You are joining, right? Right?"


Yutaka was the club manager, but the club needed to have four active swimmers as well to remain open. With the end of the year approaching, one of the club members had dropped out. Ever since then, Yutaka had been frantically panicking about the ever-closing deadline and their lack of a complete team. Now that she'd found not just someone who seemed to like swimming, but who seemed extremely good at it, she couldn't let him slip away no matter what.



2. Kyo?


A man emerged around the corner. He was a tall and slim man in his mid 30's with pale skin and a long mane of gray hair that was normally wild and shaggy, however, in this soaking environment is was limp and clinging to his body. The sodden stranger was dressed in dark blue shorts with white bandages wrapped around his legs and feet. He walked in a pair of wooden geta that were keeping him above the damp ground. He was wearing a dark blue tunic that was almost entirely open at the front, exposing a bare chest. His collar was adorned with a variety of long necklaces strewn over his neck, adorned with various amulets and symbols, that looked older than he was. His arms were bare with the exception of a few simple bangles around his right wrist. He was carrying a fair-sized sack on his back, wrapped carefully in blankets to conceal what was within. Around the blankets were a series of ropes and belts, with pouches attached to them filled to the brim with various things. Most notably though were several gourds dangling from strings. That is, except, the one in his hand. He poured the contents of the gourd into his mouth and swallowed before addressing the spirit before him. 


"I'm not much for tea..." he said with a deep, calm drawl. "It does seem about time for a rest though. Would you care for a drink?" he continued, awkwardly sauntering up to the spirit and brandishing the gourd in his hand, waving it at the spirit like a parent would wave a toy at a child. 

Ankou's sensitive nose twitched at the strong smell coming from the gourd, and as it was presented to him, his nose curled, "What is that?" He asked, wrinkling his face in disgust. 

"Saké of course." He replied. "Have you been living under a rock?"

"Sometimes." Ankou took the gourd and peered into the darkness of the container before looking back at the man, "What's saké?" He asked, with the curious tone of a child.


The man pulled the gourd away, clutching it to his chest like a mother protecting it's young. The man was silent for a moment. He wasn't quite sure how to answer that. He took another sip from the gourd and gasped, clearly refreshed by the liquid's rejuvenating powers. "Saké is a devilish mistress." he said with fond admiration. "Her dry flavour, her warmth, all provide her with great charm that can send many a man to his knees. However she is wicked to those who suckle from her teat beyond their limitations. Do you understand, Kitsune-san?"

"I... don't think so." Ankou frowned, confused at the man's words.


"Alas...I did not think you would." the man said as he took another gulp of the saké. "It is not something you can understand without experience. Though now is probably not the time to sample her fruits, Kitsune-san. After all this place can be dangerous, even for a spirit such as yourself. Best to keep your senses sharp."


"I don't think there's anything dangerous here, strange man." Ankou replied, "Not nearby anyway." He looked down at the gourd, wondering about its contents. "So what are you doing out here? Not many humans like wandering through these woods. That must be a fascinating story." He grinned, ears pricking up at the idea of listening to a tale. The man smirked in response. He quickly dropped his sack and began to root around in the blankets. After a while he produced a large folded mat and a folded length of canvas. He folded out the mat along the ground nearby before taking a set of bamboo sticks he had collected and strapped to his sack, and placing them in the soft ground around the mat. Then he threw the canvas overhead and his small shelter was complete. He offered the spirit to join him and they sat inside. 


"Well..." he began as he continued rooting through his sack for other trinkets. "My name is Shironagi and I am something of a storyteller. I travel from town to town, telling tales of my life, and the things I have seen. In exchange for something of course. Either food or coin, or a place to lay my head for the night. All I can offer in exchange is a wealth of stories to provide fellows with some entertainment." 

While he was talking the man had pulled out a variety of objects. He produced the various components such as a bowl, some hosepipes, a long cylinder and some other strange artefacts. He slowly put them together as he spoke. 

"Oh okay!" Ankou put his hands on his knees excitedly and then stopped as he realised something, "I don't have anything to give you, storyteller. I don't carry money... I have no food." He looked around, "I could catch you some food?"


"Oh that's quite alright, Kitsune-san. I'm in the mood for rest and conversation. Perhaps we can eat later." Shironagi replied as he finished making the strange contraption. He took some flint from his sack and began striking them at the top of the hookah, igniting the coal that was kept at the top. After a moment he managed to ingite the coal and produced a tray of tobacco that smelled incredibly sweet. He placed it inside the contraption, the bowl of which was filled with water. Then he began sucking on one of the pipes, causing the water to bubble. "This is a wonderful trinket I procured on my travels." he said, nodding to the contraption he had just set up. "It's called a hookah. It originates from a far off land. Have you ever encountered one before?"


"No, what does it do? You carry a lot of strange things, storyteller." Ankou looked at the invention with an impressed look on his face, despite not knowing what it was. Shironagi took another deep draw of the hookah and held his breath for a moment. And then he exhaled, issuing out a billow of smoke with a sweet scent, combined with a flavour of obscure spices. "The hookah has been used in social rituals in some ancient cultures. Essentially it's a rather elaborate way to enjoy various strains of tobacco and incense. Many years ago I visited one such place and broke bread with some interesting men. One of them was a maker of fine silks, in the village I visited his wares were highly coveted. He very graciously offered for me to stay in his home with his family while I was in the village. It was customary to gather after meal times and enjoy conversation around the hookah. The tobacco allowed for the mind to flow freely and it is often said that those who partake in the act are elevated closer to God, if only for a brief moment."


He stopped for a moment to take another draw of the hookah, savoring it's taste, before issuing another billow of smoke into the air. Afterwards he took another swig from his gourd and waited to see if the kitsune was ready for him to continue. 

"Fascinating." Ankou laughed, "But I don't know what half of those things are you said. But keep going." He rested his arms on his legs and then his head on his hands, yawning to shake off his morning sleep. Shironagi smiled and continued his tale.


"A most interesting thing happened during my stay in this village. You see the village was in the middle of a very dry, arid land. Rainfall was a rarity, and so it was customary to bring offerings to a local spirit in order to ensure enough rainfall for survival.  However during my visit something terrible had happened. The village had been raided by bandits. The brutes had stolen the offerings for the spirit. The people were in great dismay. The spirit of the village was incredibly fickle and vain. If he was not provided with gifts, then he would not provide the rain they so desperately needed. All was thought to be lost, the village would struggle to survive the season without precious water." Shironagi stopped to take another draw, once again blanketing the area in the sweet scented smoke, which almost served to provide extra flavour to his story.


"Days passed and the villagers could no come to any resolution of the matter. However my friend, the silk weaver, was a man of determination. Using his finest silks he wove one of the finest robes I have ever laid eyes on. It was a wonderful, rich golden robe, with red detailings. Truly it would be fit for an Emperor. And so the silk weaver took his finest creation to the great spirit and offered it to him. The spirit, at first, was not amused. Although he could not fault the beauty of the robe, he was used to a larger offering, he valued quantity over quality it seemed. The silk weaver offered him a deal. He would make the spirit a new robe every year, each one finer than the last, on top of his usual offerings. The spirit, at last, seemed convinced. When he put on the robe his pride swelled, he adored it. It was a perfect fit, and the smooth silk was wonderfully light and comfortable. And so from that day the silk weaver did as promised, and every year he made the spirit another robe, each finer than the last. And when he died, his children took up their father's task. To this day whenever you pass through that village, you will always find the cheerful spirit, parading around in his wonderful robes. And every year it rains right on time."


"That's a strange story. But you're a strange man, with strange things." Ankou dragged his hand through the smoke, leaving trails, "So why are you in the forest?" he asked. Shironagi stared off thoughtfully for a moment before taking another drink from his gourd. 

"Well I was passing through from a neighboring town. I'm on my way to Ichiya. I haven't been there in a few years. And what about you, Kitsune-san?" he asked in response. 


"I'm going to Ichiya to find the man that took my memories." He replied nonchalantly. Then, without warning, Ankou suddenly leant forwards and grabbed the man's travelling sack and began routing through it, "There is a lot of strange things in here. Do you have any food?" Shironagi raised his brow at the spirit's behavior, but he did not act. "Mm." he said, "You do know some people might find it rude for someone to go rooting around in their belongings?"


"Okay." Ankou replied, dunking his head into the sack as he smelled the inside, "There are lots of strange smells in here, too." Ankou dropped the sack on the floor and inspected it appreciatingly. "Can I have this?" He held up the sack and then thought for a moment, "No, you can keep it. I wouldn't know what to do with it." He smiled, "Do you want to walk with me?" 


Shironagi thought for a moment. The fox spirit really was quite peculiar. However he had mentioned that he was on a quest to find his memories. A curious quest indeed. "Interesting..." Shironagi said finally. "Very well Kitsune-san. I shall accompany you to Ichiya. Oh, and do you have a name?"


3. Seanzilla?

A  Firuzian merchant once told him that grey skies on the first day of a journey are a bad omen; they would signify bad luck, failure, a voyage with no return. Looking at the faces of the dozens of onlookers as his steed strode through the mud infested streets one would think that they were told the same tale the Firuzians were; their stares were bleak, melancholic and filled with fear. If he didn’t know better Aurelio would think they were the ones about to undertake a hopeless journey, not him. Nevertheless the superstition held no worth in his eyes. It was time for him to fulfill his purpose and a little bad weather would not be able to stop him.

Waiting for fair weather in Caolan had no point anyway. The bleak sky, never-ending cold gusts and soft drizzling rain were daily occurrences no matter the season or time of day. Living in this austere country for the better part of a year was not enough for him to get used to the climate. Part of him would be happy that he finally had a reason to leave, if only an emotion as joy wasn’t something so far from his emotional range. It mattered not. It was the dawn of a new day, a new year even, the day they had agreed to meet on a month ago had finally arrived and Aurelio refused to miss even a second of it.

Sheridan has always had a dark reputation despite its technological prowess. The invention and widespread implementation of the steam engine should’ve ushered in an age of prosperity for the elves, but instead it only served to widen the gap between the rich and the poor. This income disparity was of little importance to him, all he cared about was making use the steam engine to cross Caolan’s borders as soon as possible. The elves were kind enough to development something they called a train, powered by a steam locomotive it would be able to transport a high number of people at great velocity over a predetermined path. It effectively shortened four days of travel by horseback to less than twenty-four hours.

As he drew closer to the train station the sounds of the crowd became more audible. Soft murmuring quickly turned into loud shouting by the time that he was a stone’s throw away from the station’s entrance, but the very second they laid eyes upon him every bit of noise was drowned out by an uncomfortable silence. Behind him several dozens of Caolanians had been following the strut of his horse and in front of him a crowd had been waiting to see him off. These people were idiots. Despite all the rational explanations that this excursion would end in failure they still insisted on clinging on to that tiny bit of hope that the world would be saved. Idiots.

Aurelio hopped off his steed, landed in the middle of a puddle of muddy water and adjusted his overcoat before grabbing the horse’s reins. He was neatly dressed in cream trousers, a cream overcoat with one folded lapel to reveal a wine coloured interior, one lapel raised to form a high collar all the way around his neck and a black belt tied around his waist, knee high brown leather boots and brown leather gloves. He carried himself with a distinguished air of grace and confidence as he led his horse into the station. The mob of people blocking his way parted willingly to open up a path for him to pass through. In silence they kept staring at him, but their interest was left unanswered as Aurelio’s gaze did not shift.

The train station, as the locals referred to it, was no more than two stone platforms with two tracks in between. One of the platforms was empty whereas the other was occupied with a large black steam locomotive and a dozen train carts behind it. A human attendant dressed in a white dress shirt, white bowtie, navy blue trousers and navy blue vest approached Aurelio.  “Could I take your horse for you, sir?â€

Aurelio examined the station attended before handing over the reins to his horse. Wait, why didn’t he ask for Aurelio’s ticket? “Aren’t you forgetting something?†His voice oozed with pride despite the hint of an accent making it obvious that the Common tongue wasn’t his mother language.
“Yes, lady Lancaster is waiting for you in the first cart’s lounge, it has been reserved for her and her companions. She instructed me to direct her party in to her side.†The attendant bowed and started walking towards one of the carts in the back to keep the horse in. Aurelio gave him one last cold look before turning on his heels and walking towards the cart he was directed to.

The interior of the car was made out of dark mahogany wood with several silver wall mounted candleholders to illuminate it after dark. The room was decorated with several upholstered two person black sofas on one side and fauteuils of similar design on the other side of the cart to leave enough room for passenger to navigate in between. Pairs of sofas and fauteuils faced each other with mahogany single pedestal tables in between. It did not take a genius to realize that access to this lounge required a ton of money. For a second he wondered how Nydia had obtained the gold required to pay for this, but before he could further dwell on it he noticed he wasn’t alone.

In the back of the car a woman was sitting on a sofa, staring at the crowd outside in front of the station platform. She had shoulder length black hair with several strands resting between her nose and right eye and eyes with a deep blue colour. She was dressed in black leather pants, a white dress shirt with the top few buttons unbuttoned, a black underbust corset and a brown leather jacket. Aurelio made a mental note that Caolan’s fashion was not for him; too impractical.

“They’re afraid,†she said with a melancholic voice. Her eyes remained locked outside, not turning to meet Aurelio for even a second. “They want to be happy, but they’re too scared of having their hopes and dreams crushed again.â€

Aurelio sat down on the fauteuil diagonally opposed of Nydia’s seat. “Do you remember our conversation?†Aurelio ignored her little speech. The problems of the people were not the same as his. He had nothing to do with them.

“If I’m lying you’ll kill me and everyone I know, I got it.†Nydia turned her head to face Aurelio as her lips curled up to form an alluring smile, “Do you remember your part of the promise?†Never in his life had anyone looked at Aurelio that earnestly, it made him feel uncomfortable. The fact that he had no idea whether she was legitimate or the greatest actress he had ever met only made it harder for him.

“Yes,†he said as he turned his face away. At that time he heard the door to the train cart open, the rest of the group had arrived. He quickly finished his sentence before anyone got close enough to hear him. “I will make sure you arrive safely.â€







Gwen, short for Gwendolen, was a young halfling, she lived with her mother and little sister, just young enough to still be a child, but old enough to question her womanhood. She was short like all of her species, still a few inches shorter than her mother, at three feet and a few inches, her hair thick, wavy and permanently messy even immediately brushed, her mane littered with braids that had feathers and beads weaved into it, but mostly it just hung in wavy, brown chaos around her shoulders. Her eyes were the brightest green only brighter when accented by her green dress, held tightly to her budding body beneath a muted yellow vest. 


They lived on the outskirts of a human village, making their way by fishing and tending a small garden, the three of them generally had no problem tending to the chorus, but on this hot summer afternoon, Gwen was doing twice as many chores, her mother gravely sick. The work kept her mind occupied, kept her from thinking of her mother's illness and wondering how she would ever take care of her little sister without her mother. The dirt stained her cheeks, but was marred by streaks that marked where tears had riveted down her face, but now her green eyes were clear, focused with determination to finish the task at hand before the sun fell. Across her back she carried a sack that held most of her crop and what she would sell at market tomorrow a task she had never undertaken alone, always her mother had stood beside her, teaching her fair price, instructing her on how to haggle with the humans who looked down their noses at them. Of course, most of the money she would make would go to medicine for her mother. They would have to cut back severely this winter, fish wouldn't last long, no one could hunt, any dried meats would have to be purchased, the funds to do so with would be limited. Gwen hated thinking of money, it depressed her, until her mother's illness she had been happy, carelessly fooling around with little fear or worry of what tomorrow would bring, never had money crossed her mind, she understood that the more they had the better, but didn't truly comprehend the value until now. 


She felt her eyes growing heavy with tears again and she willed them away, wiping the dirt stains, and the tear streaks away with her arm, now darkened with dirt from her days work. She dropped the sack at the front of their little hut, just big enough for the three of them, the house held little purpose beyond storage and a place to sleep, while there was a small kitchen, they mostly cooked outside. Beside her sack sat her little sister's, earlier in the day she had sent her younger sibling to go try her hand at fishing after she had grow restless from gathering, it was a very mundane and boring task. She knew her sister hadn't been happy that she'd refused to go out and play with her, even more so that instead of just letting her go off and play, she had sent her off to another chore. Still she hoped she had caught something for supper, though doubtful she was still fishing, more likely she had begun playing in the shallows and scaring off the minnows.


Gwen dragged both sacks into the hut and stored away what they would keep, with a heavy heart she stored the less desirable pieces and left the more luscious fruit in the sack to sell. Generally, they would keep the most delectable pieces for themselves, but they needed the money. Quickly, Gwen finished up and headed out, the sunset was deep with rich hues, the fading sunlight reminding her to hurry to find her sister instead of to play more as it had in days past. When once she would have danced and cart wheeled down the hill to the river, now she walked with heavy foot steps, her feet pounding in her brown boots, she never remembered her feet hurting in days past when she'd been too preoccupied with having fun. 



It had been hard to drive her Impala around when she knew she had the R8 in the garage at home, but it was worth it for the look on Tyler's face when she finally did drive it to pick him up. His BMW's were nice, there was no denying that, but she'd finally done the celebrity thing and well and truly flashed her cash with a really nice car. However, it didn't mean her dad's car was going anywhere; she'd never get rid of it.


"Just decided I wanted one, so I got one. Pretty nice, huh?"


There wasn't much room for bags, but luckily it was only a short break, and as a man, Tyler travelled light.


"Nope, you'll find out when we get there."


Revving the large engine, she sped off as fast as New York traffic would allow, wishing they were going somewhere further away than the suburbs. But, on the same hand, she didn't want to spend too much previous time travelling; this was their last chance to truly relax before work kicked off again. Plus, she was all healed and medically cleared now, and she wanted to enjoy it.


"Welcome to The Carlton Hotel, Miss Williams. Please allow our staff to take your bags up to the room whilst we check you in."


Posh didn't really begin to describe this place, but considering she was paying over two thousand dollars per night, it had better be. Neither she nor Tyler had known such luxury as they were growing up, so why not spoil him now? Len honestly couldn't think of anything better to spend her money on. 


Checking in took mere minutes, as she'd paid for the room in advance, and as they moved up in the elevator, key in hand, Len was practically fidgeting, wanting to see how amazing their suite would be. More importantly, would Tyler like it?


"Here is your suite, Miss. As you can see, this is the general living area, with the master bedroom to the right, with its own en-suite, a dining area to the left, and then the main bathroom. On the balcony, you have your own private pool and hot tub. The front desk is just a call away, if you have any concerns, as well as an exceptional room service. We will also recommend local restaurants and attractions if you feel like doing anything in particular. Is there anything I may help you with now?"


"No, thank you, everything is perfect."


"Shall I pour the champagne?"


The porter indicated the bottle on ice, sitting on a nearby table, but she shook her head, handing over a generous tip.


"Really, we're fine, thank you."


He nodded his head with a smile, before leaving the suite. It was suddenly very quiet, and instead of exploring inside, Len moved straight outside to examine the pool. 


The view was spectacular. She didn't know how high up they were exactly, but it was high, and with the clear day they'd been blessed with, she could see for miles. 


"So Ty, what do you think?"


She didn't know where he was, or if he was even within hearing distance, but as she was still standing by the pool, eyes on the horizon, she guessed she was about to find out.



The boy shot up, sucking in a large amount of air, his mind being startled awake from a deep unconsciousness. The sudden movement jostled his head and upset his stomach. Quickly noting that a simple hand over his mouth wasn't going to cut it, he immediately retched over the side of the bed and vomited onto the steel floor. He glared at his mess through blurry eyes, as if demanding it told him why it even existed. His head hurt so bad, his limbs were tenderly sore, and his throat was on fire. Absently moving his jaw, tasting the sour and salty taste of his own bile, he laid back down onto the stiff, springless mattress of his cell. It was abundantly clear that trying to do much of anything in his current state was only going to spell bad news. But that brought up a pretty good question: where was he?


First, start off with the basics.


Who was he? Well that was simple. The star soccer player and all around awesome guy, Davis Motomiya. Leader of the Digidestined. Keeper of the DigiEggs of Courage and Kindness.


When did he get here? He guessed he'd been here for less than a few hours. Carefully, he checked his pockets, his body still relaxed and his eyes still closed, searching for his two important devices--the Digivice and D-Terminal. Nothing. Not being the type to wear watches--especially ones that kept track of days--who knew how long he had been out. It could have been overnight or even a couple of days.


What was he doing in the Digital World? That's where things started to get fuzzy. It had something to do with the Digimon Emperor--these days it always did. They were somewhere on File Island. It was cold? No, maybe it was hot? A little bit of both? The group of Digidestined consisting of himself, Yolei, Cody, Kari, and T.K. were continuing to demolish control spires, just like they had been doing for several weeks, and then they ran into the Emperor. He remembered falling and rolling, all along hitting things on his way down. Ah, well at least the pain started to make sense now.


Where was he? He opened his eyes slowly, the pain behind his eyes flaring up, even when the dull light of his cell touched them. He was obviously in a prison of some sort. When it came to the Digital World, that could mean only one thing--he had been captured by the Emperor. Placing an arm over his eyes he groaned slightly. How did he let that one happen? He couldn't remember. The only answer he could think of was the he had been knocked out by the fall. It's the only way he would ever let Ken touch him, that bastard. What a coward, he thought.




How could he get out?


He could hear footsteps coming down the hallway. They were getting louder, though they were taking their time to make their way down. Tap tap tap. Pause. Tap tap tap. Longer pause. Each auditory disturbance made his head ring, but he needed to see who it was. If it was a digimon, he might be able to convince him to let him go or at least distract it in some way. If it was the Emperor... Well, he had some choice words he'd like to share with his new friend.


Davis weakly but very carefully sat back up in bed, making sure every part of his body was relatively undisturbed as he did so. He stepped one boot into his sick and grumpily rolled his eyes. "Come on..." he muttered. From the corner of his eye, he could see somebody was at the cell door. He quickly disregarded his misfortune and stood up, swaying and stumbling forward a few steps until finally he got his bearings. Walking clumsily to the bars of the cell, he looked down at the Gotsumon on the other side, a dark ring emitting a pale red glow around its neck.


"Food." It said, sliding a tray of slop through a horizontal slot in the center of the cell door.


Davis didn't take his eyes off the digimon, and he made no movement to take the offer. "Where's Ken."


"Food." The digimon said again, impatiently shaking the tray, causing bits of slop to spill onto the floor.


Davis leaned on the bars, feeling another wave of nauseous overcoming him. "Where's Ken." He glared at the digimon, who had taken to glaring back.


"The Master doesn't wish to speak to you. Enjoy your meal." The Gotsumon released the tray, the sharp sound of metal hitting metal ringing throughout the cell. Davis stumbled back away from the bars holding his head. He tripped onto the bed and cried out. The Gotsumon laughed and continued on with his rounds.


Once the ringing subsided from his ears, he began to realize he wasn't going to get anything done until he was feeling better. He sighed, frustrated at his own weakness, and closed his eyes again to rest. He had to wait until his enemy showed up before the real fun began, anyway.


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I'm gonna say first one is seanzilla and the second one is pain if I'm remembering correctly

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