Post by Marc Streampaw on Nov 19, 2010 23:41:34 GMT -5
Marc sighed. It had been a long time since he had worked in the broom shop of Mr. Navara. However, he had been lucky enough to get another job as an intern for the mayor. But now as he waited to use the printing press, he suddenly remember the old shop and missed it.
I wonder why Mr. Navara left like that, he thought to himself, I wish he would come back, I think I like brooms more than I like paperwork. Still a job was a job. Marc had finally saved enough money to pay his family's debt and then some. He had tried to contact the farmer, but the farm had been closed for quite some time. Marc kind of wondered if the BFC had seized it, and put one of their churches on the land.
Underground torture chambers and all, Marc shivered. Somebody really ought to do something about them. I wish I could do something about them. He thought as he made copies of some meeting minutes.
Post by Geneva von Einsburn on Nov 21, 2010 0:59:35 GMT -5
A young woman walked into the room. She had blond hair, and was dressed in black. She wasn't carrying her usual fire-arms, because she didn't want filthy people touching her Walkure again. She a few armaments, which she wore openly. A pair of ornate silver knives, in small leather pouches, the handles sticking out from under the snap-closed flaps. Her wand she had left at her residence. She wouldn't need additional enchantments for reconnaissance.
Essentially, her mission was purely recon. The current idiots in charge were responsible for letting more than a few evil lycans roam free. They even covered up the incident involving the lycan who murdered an entire family. This was simply unacceptable, but there was no denying that this was, in fact, their territory, for now. She had been walking around the town all day, and simply stopped into the town hall, hoping to find some sort of documents that would aid her search in the towns public records.
What she found, however, much to her surprise and elation, was none other than one of the most wanted criminals, Marc Streampaw. She was very certain that she recognized this criminal, and also that a commotion was best avoided. After all, the corrupt government here was sympathetic to criminal activity, so it seemed. She would have to report this before taking further action. She walked into the ladies' room, pulled out a cellular phone, reinforced to withstand magical interference, and dialed the hunter field division office.
As soon as someone picked up, she spoke quiet and slow, "Target sighted, Town Hall. Engage?"
My Brawls are no longer inert! Add my code if you want:
Post by Marc Streampaw on Nov 21, 2010 11:05:09 GMT -5
When the door opened to the printing room, Marc turned and saw who was looking at him. Holy harpies, he thought, what the hell is she doing here! however before Mark could even twitch, Geneva turned and left. For a moment Marc just stared in shock, then he jumped into action. He quickly put the remaining papers to be copied down on a desk. There wasn't anything really important in them so he didn't think to hide them, just some minutes of town meetings.
Then he stopped the printing press, no need to have it keep running if it was going to be destroyed in some crossfire or something. He ran to the door and locked it tight, quickly using his Lycan strength to drag a few short file cabinets in front of the door. Kicking off his shoes, he transformed into his wolf form, picked up his shoes in his mouth, and ran for the secret passage out of the printing room.
Once he was inside, he used his nose to trigger a switch that barred that door too. Secret as it was he was taking no chances. Then he used the passages to get up to the mayor's office at the top of the building. He had been told that the mayor was on important business today, and he might get in trouble for doing what he was about to do, but it wasn't simply himself he was worried about. There were a few Lycans working here, and at least one werewolf. He had to save them.
Quickly he transformed back into his human self, opened the Mayors desk drawer, and hit the silent alarm button. He hoped his brethren would be smart enough to get away, while at the same time, he knew anyone who worked to protect the Drakborough or who worked for the Mayor would come running as soon as they possibly could.
Suddenly realizing he'd forgotten to take his shoes out of his mouth, he spat them out and put them back on. If it ended up that he had to take to his heels, the last thing he wanted was to be shoeless in human form.
Post by Geneva von Einsburn on Nov 21, 2010 12:13:34 GMT -5
Remain in position and wait for backup, Einsburn. You're not equipped for hunting. came the reply. She scowled a bit at the phone, insulted. Of course she was equipped for hunting. She had her knives, and that was enough. She walked past the room she had seen him in before, and in so doing noted his position had changed. His work seemed to be half done, even. Had he recognized her? She hadn't seen her pictures around the area, and wasn't even dressed to hunt. Maybe these criminals were more organized than she expected. Oh, well.
She wasn't doing anything that even this corrupt government could charge her for, unless they had banned knives. She didn't see why they would though, since all someone needed was a wand and two words to kill someone. She was probably the least dangerous person in the room. She didn't need to worry. She could simply find the target she lost. Either way, she had confirmed the target's presence and that he worked here. All she needed to do now was go through public records to ascertain if any other monsters were living here.
She proceeded to the room where public records are kept, and began looking through everything she could, careful to obey all the rules regarding access, and to put things back when she was done. There were surely government employee records, and she would need to photocopy those, but other than that she only needed to read...
My Brawls are no longer inert! Add my code if you want:
It'd been a mildly busy week for the 'Government' of Drakborough. With their Mayor away on business, everyone was working double time to keep things ship shape while he was gone. The last thing they wanted was to prove to the Mayor that they couldn't survive even a day or two without his presence, and so everyone had been extra careful, extra alert, extra... extra.
Emery Trae looked up from her work book as a small magical gadget on her desk started to buzz. That was the alarm, something used only in extreme emergencies, the sort the town was known for. However, that particular alarm meant that the building itself was being attacked, yet she heard nothing, felt nothing different about the area. It was odd, because the alarm itself had the trigger in the Mayor's office, a room simply two doors down from hers, and one that should have been vacant because of Mayor Mustang's absence.
Quickly, adrenaline starting to leak into her system, she pushed her chair out and briskly made her way to the mayor's office. Drawing her wand, she leaned close to the door to the office, but she didn't hear anything. Taking a breath and counting to three, she finally opened the door and walked in, wand first. She was met not with a terrorist attack, but a small, naked boy, holding shoes. Who was this kid? Was he one of those interns?
She flicked her wand, turning the alarm off.
She didn't know where to start.
"I..." She gathered herself. She wasn't one to waste words, and his nudity would have to be dealt with later. It wasn't like she'd never seen a penis before. "What seems to be the problem?"
Post by Marc Streampaw on Nov 21, 2010 21:59:24 GMT -5
At last! Marc had been worried for moment that no one would come! still it seemed odd this girl looked very -what was the word- embarrassed about something. Mark looked down at himself, only to realize his shirt had come open, along with his pants buttons when he had transformed.
"Oh my pardon me," he said, and turned his back, to readjust his pants and shirt buttons so that he was once again presentable. With that taking care of, and his shoes still on his feet where he had already put them on, he addressed the lady.
"I saw someone downstairs!" he said but then paused. Suddenly he realized that despite his suspicions, of the person being from the BFC he had never actually seen the woman before. Oh no, had he just pressed their biggest alarm with no evidence to back up this claim? That's what it looked like, dang it all!
"She was," he quickly search for something out in his memory of the woman, surely there was a reason he thought she was from the BFC! well besides her uniform, and cruel face when she looked at him, there are also been those really big knives . . .
"armed!" he finished, " she was armed with these bloody great knives, that is they seemed very big. And she was wearing the uniform of the BFC I'm sorry, I panicked." He looked down at his hastily tied shoes, "My name is Marc, and I'm an intern for the Mayor. I used the secret entrance to get up here, I was worried for the others like me, so I figured I'd better warn everybody."
Last Edit: Nov 21, 2010 22:04:34 GMT -5 by Marc Streampaw
Post by Geneva von Einsburn on Nov 23, 2010 9:23:20 GMT -5
Geneva began shuffling through the government employee records, and copying them down. This was an arduous task at best. Had these idiots never heard of photocopiers? It wasn't like she knew how to use something as archaic as a press, either. In the church, they only had to press a button to get (mostly) perfect copies of any document.
She had almost completely forgotten about Marc, though his presence did mean that at least he worked here. All she needed to do for the time being was to find targets. Come to think of it, this sort of dull assignment was probably a punishment for letting so many monsters get away, recently. Marc Streampaw. She recognized that name, and one or two others from the church's list of suspected furries beasts. At least she was doing something worth her time...
My Brawls are no longer inert! Add my code if you want:
Post by Seth Landon on Nov 27, 2010 2:53:30 GMT -5
Seth hadn't really gone out in awhile. He had been too engrossed in his own researches in his small basement apartment for what felt like months now. He was sure he was on the verge of multiple breakthroughs. Things that would change the face of magic as we knew it. If only he could get that evil, demonic, hateful shrew of a landlady off his back. Constantly complaining about the bangs and crashes and strange stenches coming from her basement. How the hell did MAGIC(!) get done without it getting a little noisy and smelly? How was he to save the world with that beast constantly nagging at him? So what if her cat now had six legs? That was an improvement, dammit!
So he was in the records office, utilizing his skills as a journalist, trying to find some obscure law that allowed him to practice his art with impunity. Or perhaps some ancient, forgotten curse or jinx or what have you patented in Slytherin's time he could use on her for revenge. Or maybe he could just get some good old fashioned dirt on her. It was all good really.
He had been rummaging through the records for a few hours now, working his way back from the more recent stuff. The room was enormous, it was partly a public library, (containing as it did many unpublished texts and manuscripts by many noted crackpots and geniuses), it had most definitely had some sort of Expanding Charm put on it, the whole thing had to go back maybe ten centuries at least. He was sitting in the back behind a low shelf, engrossed in a curse book full of horrible skin conditions and he gleefully imagined using them on that old harpy. It was then he heard someone come in on the far side, which he ignored at first, he was enjoying his text. But they were making a bit of noise and seemed to be looking for something specific. He he couldn't see the person from where he was, but he thought they were looking through the most recent town records. He had been through there at the beginning of his afternoon, so perhaps he could be of assistance?
He silently crept over there, remaining out of sight. It was in his nature to maintain the element of surprise and he absolutely loved mysteriously appearing from the shadows. He managed to avoid detection, he was maybe fifteen feet away off to her left before he recognized her. It was that bitch, von Einsburn, who had hunted his brother when he had been framed by Hunter Rose. What the hell was she doing--? It was then he saw the Streampaw file. The boy's picture stared out from the cover of the file she was holding. He knew about this kid. A lycan-born in hiding. Hiding from... the Black Forest Church. And he put two and two together. And fury hit him like a wave. His hand was in his jacket before he knew what was happening. "Reducto!" In an instant it was all gone. The desk, the file, her copies were disintegrated. He had his wand pointed at her now. "YOU! How dare you! Stupefy!"
Last Edit: Nov 27, 2010 2:54:15 GMT -5 by Seth Landon
Dance like you're stamping on a human face forever, love like you've been in a serious car crash that minced the front of your brain, stab like no one can arrest you, and live like there's no such thing as God —Warren Ellis
Life isn’t divided into genres. It’s a horrifying, romantic, tragic, comical, sci-fi cowboy detective novel. You know, with a bit of pornography if you're lucky. —Alan Moore
Teagan Offline: This board is full of nostalgia.
Aug 22, 2020 8:39:09 GMT -5
Missing the old MH: gotta say missing when MH and all that was around.
Nov 6, 2019 0:02:30 GMT -5
Willow_lazy: why tf are there 400 posts about adidas
Sept 6, 2018 17:35:57 GMT -5
Azrael: I'm not hard to find, since I'm the only one there who goes by "Azzy", I'm pretty sure. XD
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:41 GMT -5
Azrael: Dunno if anyone still pops by here from time to time, but if any of you mofos do and still feel like gettin' yo nerd on, I've been hanging around this here place a bunch recently: www.roleplayerguild.com/
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:10 GMT -5
Azrael: hold onto your pantaloons
Jul 25, 2016 5:16:43 GMT -5