AWKWARD ZOMBIE

[~Yeah, I'll post the time movement tomorrow so it gives people a chance to do stuff. And Madican, I'm getting increasingly uncomfortable with your character just pulling all the strings. I mean yeah, the military is corrupt, but sic'ing the entire military on one person? That seems a bit overreacting to me.]

Captain Forté, from the future that was once the yesterday of a person today, walked into the hospital bearing his comically oversized aquatic source of alternative protein. Why do vegetarians eat fish, anyways? Fish are animals too! But ethical contradictions and hypocrisies aside, Forté needed to speak to Lieutenant Simmons.

After a brief and confusing chat with the receptionist, the man and his herring were allowed up to Simmons' room. Upon entering, he immediately spotted her laying in the hospital's bed, bandages wrapped around her pretty blonde head. He leaned over her, herring in hand, as her eyes fluttered open.

"Who... who are you?"

*SLAP*

"CAPTAIN! IT'S YOU!"

Forté dropped the herring on the floor behind him as Lieutenant Simmons jumped from her bed and hugged him.

"Now, now! Let's keep it professional, cadet!" Forté said, jokingly, "We need to get you out of here and back to our own time! But I'm afraid there is still a long road ahead of us."

"I am with you Captain, as always!" the perky blonde stereotype eagerly responded.

"Excellent! You stay here and get some rest, for tomorrow we break our collective fasts at the home of a good friend!" Forté said, supposedly beaming beneath his helmet, "Now I just need to figure out how I managed to forget about telling myself about the-ACK!" his outward thinking was interrupted as he slipped over the fish he had so carelessly tossed to the ground, hitting helmet on the stone floor with a loud *gong*!

"What the... who left this herring here? A hospital is no place for a herring, or any sort of fish for that matter! Well, I'm off to find... something. Let us forget all about this silly talk of scaled sea-dwellers and the places where they do not fit!"

He left the hospital in search of his lost jetpack, and hopefully that tin of SPACE SHORTBREAD he so longed for.

[~Goddammit Sax you're killing me]

((He's a nobleman and it's because the military is corrupt that this works. The leaders want to ingratiate themselves to the nobles, which means giving them more leeway than most. It also happens to set up for easier prison break with the skeleton crew remaining. I'm setting up the Ten Great Houses as the elite nobles, which means that law enforcement and military want their favor even more because together they comprise practically their own powerful pseudo-country, each family with a different aspect. The Delacroix family were the negotiators. I can give a list of each house and its aspect.

Also remember Eris is an antagonist. He's going to do things that move a story along and cause events. You needn't worry about me going overboard, I've done this RP thing for a very long time. However, if someone decides to ignore the basics of Eris's character and the world (corrupt military, nobleman, generally in stories like this corruption means doing dirty work of nobles, etc) then I am going to punish them for it. Especially if I think they're using OOC knowledge like Lambeth is considering Hel wasn't even around at the casino until it was already over.))

"No, I don't think I will," said Eris. The next instant Hel was left holding Eris's outer jacket as the nobleman dislocated his shoulders and dropped out. He hit the ground running and bolted out of the shop at top speed. Were one to think about his choice of weapon, a thin sword, they might realize that it lent to a style of fast footwork and thrusts. Outside of combat, it meant Eris was a lightning bolt.

He Blanked his fatigue away, arms flapping behind him in the wind, and focused on moving towards the sound of clanking metal, growing louder with each passing second. He turned the corner and saw the entire street filled with rank and file military. Eris didn't slow down and said, "House Renault invokes the Right of Ten. Capture my pursuer." He got behind the guards and began to relocate his shoulders, bolstering the soldiers' Courage in preparation.

[Admittedly, I didn't actually read much of that and only chose you to stalk after reading the character bio. Hel decided to follow Eris simply on the basis that he looked suspicious. It was merely a hunch. Had you decided to go for something more subtle than sending the whole army against her, maybe by playing dumb or something, Hel might have apologized and left you alone. At any rate I'm not concerned about the army. Hel is, in my mind, basically the juggernaut except far more reserved and a lot less angry.]

Hel walked towards a reasonably sized oak tree near the sandwich place while the man who formerly wore the PANK jacket ran away at the speed of a lightning bolt. His arms were flapping behind him like two strips of bacon caught in the wind. Hel was glad she was incapable of throwing up. She waited patiently for the soldiers to get closer, with her hands behind her back, sandwich still in hand. They had surrounded her quite utterly before she spoke in her slightly echoy, metallic voice.

"I don't wish to harm any of you. There are greater forces at work here and greater foes to fight. If any of you have honor, you are free leave without harm." Nobody moved. Someone coughed. "Very well." She threw the sandwich, distracting them. She ripped the tree out of the ground in the time it took for them to realize the sandwich was not a threat. Then the game was on.

*insert an hour or so long battle between the forces and Hel that I don't care to write right now*

Hel drop the splintered remains of the tree while the soldiers who hadn't been beaten to a pulp(hurr) ran off. She didn't completely deplete their forces, but she had certainly made them rethink crossing her. The exertion had exhausted her, it would seem. She had no energy to chase after her foe. After grabbing his PANK jacket -her only lead- she sought refuge in the only place she new familiar. She clanked and clunked her way to the nearby Temple of Temporos, accidentally broke the door open and collapsed onto one of the stone pews. She hoped the monks would not mind about the door.

[And now she sleeps until tomorrow.]

Pellendro was growing increasingly frustrated and thoroughly sick of his location. The past few days spent searching the Dead Lands had yielded nearly nothing in the way of results. Although he had made careful and laborious note of every detail he could find that might prove telling, and had indeed discovered a singular ring curiously unmarred by the devastation surrounding it buried beneath a pile of ash - the origins of which were likely best left unknown - his time here was otherwise swiftly proving infuriatingly fruitless.

He found himself surprised at his inability to suppress his irritation and even at his inclination to lash out at his bleak surroundings as though they held blame for his lack of more remarkable progress. He already well expected that the chances of a single lead, however thoroughly perused, revealing significant information of his preference were slim at best. He suspected that the oppressive nature of the place, possibly some specter of the violent nature of its existence - or lack thereof - abetted his more brash and destructive emotional tendencies. This, no doubt, was well aggravated by the effort of continually maintaining his little barriers as well as his bare subsistence on magically conjured food and water; being dependent on the nature of their surroundings the resulting meals were, to his palate, scarcely better than the other filth in the land.

He scowled at himself, making a mental note to exact more rigid discipline over his emotions. It would not do to be so easily influenced, not when emotional instability was so dangerous a variable in magical conduct as he knew from unfortunate experience.

Still, it was becoming plain that his productive time here was, gratefully, nearing its conclusion. He could not discern any manner of effort that was likely to yield further clues without additional means with which to search. It was time to move on, and the relatively sprawling city of Mechanica seemed as good a place as any.

SNRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGG Allen Tanner tries to sleep in the barracks, but is beaten with sacks of onions instead.

[Don't call my name.
Don't call my name,
Pellendro.]

Captain Forté from the past exited the hospital in search of his lost jetpack. After backtracking to the casino, or rather the smouldering pile of ash and rubble formerly known as the casino, he found his jetpack propped up against a tree far from the recently-extinguished blaze. How thoughtful!

Captain Forté from the future exited the hospital courtyard in search of ingredients for his magnificent breakfast. After wandering to a previously unexplored part of town, or rather the dark and shady part of the town few well-thinking people go to, he found a small shop. How convenient! As he walked up to the door, he heard soft noises coming from a nearby alleyway. Upon investigation, he saw a small figure clothed head to toe in oversized men's wear that looked mighty familiar. The figure shuffling along, attempting to find a place to sleep. Perhaps this unfortunate person of nondescript gender would benefit from a nice meal... But there was no such person with him at the breakfast that had already taken place in the near future! This is the small and quiet person that his past self met sometime after the breakfast! He would have to remind himself to seek out this person and then remind himself to remind himself to seek out this person, and so on.

With that complicated and foreshadowing thought, he knocked on the shop's door.

[Hey, Sol, just an FYI, I sent you my character through a PM]

Roil's energy dwindled in the sweltering heat of the Dead Lands. His intent had been to explore one of the villages that dotted the nothingness of his surroundings, but the clime he was used to was far more... cooperative. He hated things he couldn't control, and temperature was one of those things. Unable to maintain his altitude, due partially to fatigue, and partially to sweat-soaked clothes, he descended. It was only as he neared the ground that he spotted movement in the village he had sought to explore.

The villages of the Dead Lands were mostly covered by enormous, man-made canopies, it seemed. These canopies had obscured Roil's vision of what was underneath. Now that he was low to the ground, he could tell that the village had met an unfortunate fate. Charred huts lay in Ruins. Load-bearing poles had been broken, causing the canopy to sag to the ground in places. Destruction had run rampant, and in the middle of it stood a man clad in blue robes. Roil was impressed.

Touching down about half a mile outside the village, Roil unfastened his megaphone from his belt and raised it to his lips.

"HEY. HEY YOU."

Roil was almost sure he saw the man turn toward him. The amplified sound would've been completely unhindered in this wasteland, so Roil knew it carried well past the village.

"YEAH. I SEE YOU IN THERE. WALKING AND STUFF."

As Roil continued to approach the village, he concluded it was best to save any accusations he had for the man until he knew whether or not he was armed.

[hey sol, can it be morning yet?]

[~Yeah, sorry, I was at work]

After testing his new abilities, Zephiur jet-launched up onto the nearest building, looking out at the rest of the city. He looked to the east and could just barely make out the lights of Mekanos. He grinned; he was gonna make it. He kicked off of the side of the building and jet-boosted himself to the outskirts of Rawling, miraculously managing to avoid being seen, and blasted off across the flatlands toward his home, skating across a layer of heated air until morning...

[ Well, I suppose now I've another reason to not like Gaga. ]


The errant and blatantly unusual wind currents alerting his senses served as significant indication that something was amiss, but not before the garish screeching vaguely disguised as a voice assaulted his ears. What? Pellendro turned in irritation towards the source of the offense, a moment later identifying the dim disturbance he spotted as someone walking towards him. Now of remarkably shorter temper, and seeing that the figure apparently had nothing better to relate than "Hey you", he was on the verge of leaving anyway when a more concentrated study of his intruder made him pause. It was, though difficult to tell, seemingly dressed in clothing rather unfamiliar to him; his curiosity was doubled, in spite of himself, upon noticing the very unusual device it carried. Grudgingly reminding himself that this expedition was wholly for the sake of information, he remained where he was and let the figure approach.

He was not, at any rate, inclined to raise his voice for anyone, no matter how potentially interesting.

Jade was curled up in his bed (he had to be curled up or askew in some way, or else his feet would hang off of it,) sleeping from the night in relative ease. Light began to filter through his window around 9 am, like it usually did this time of year, going through the gaps in between the curtain and the wall. Eventually, he woke up, trying to shake off the tiredness by wiping his eyes and stretching.
Then, he noticed something. The smell of food was really strong, he thought maybe someone next door was cooking, but...the more he sniffed at the air, the more he noticed it. He got out of his bed, still wearing a pair of pajama pants and slipped on a pair of sandals, walking to the kitchen nook. Whatever it was, it was making him hungry, too.

Captain Forté had received all the supplies he needed from the shop. Now he was ready to make a wonderful breakfast! He had everything planned out:

1. Eggs
2. Bacon
3. SPACE WAFFLES

Wonderful! He located Jade's spare key and entered his apartment. He began quietly preparing the meal, knowing that all this time-loop business will soon be complete. Forté tried his best not to disturb the sleeping Jade as he worked.