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    just past the pot o' gold
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    The Force Unleashed... if I had it...
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  1. "Your impulsiveness never ceases to amaze me," Graham Jones grumbled, readjusting his black mask as he stalked quietly beside his partner. "Do you even know where we are?" She, in her green and gold getup, smiled back at him. "I don't need to since I have you with me," she said arily, though the slightest tremor in her voice told him she was out of her comfort zone. That took some doing. "Ah yes, your personal roadmap," he muttered. "Quiet," their guide hissed. Graham glanced at the guide, then at the four burly guards that trailed behind them. There were many things about this situation that were not good. Outnumbered, certainly. And the men were carrying guns. Not the surest advantage yet, but their craftsmanship was impressive, to be sure. And they were loaded, could be fired before he could put an arrow to his bow. Which was currently strapped to the back of one of the big guys, along with Adara's. And their hands were tied. Well... had been tied. Graham had got his hands free little more than five minutes into the walk. When they searched him for weapons, they'd definitely been thorough on him. Less so on Adara. Strange to find such gentlemanly behavior amongst common street thugs, but the longer the walk continued, the less common they seemed. At any rate, there had been a small knife in Adara's hair, and through a few subtle movements, Graham had obtained it. Now, as they walked, he held the ropes tightly around his wrists, waiting for his best shot at getting them out of here. At length, their guide stopped and turned to face them. "What's with letting us keep the masks?" Adara asked him. "Most people seem hellbent on finding out who we are." The guide smirked. "What matters is your deaths," he said, snatching lightly at the fabric of her cloak. "High quality stuff, this. Yes, I think we'll know who you are in the morning when two rich children are discovered to be missing from their homes." "If you wanted us dead," Graham said quietly, "you should've killed us when you first got the drop on us." The guide grinned at him. "Ah, the quiet one speaks." He held up a finger. "But, o Silent Archer, you assume I and my men are the ones you'll be facing. We are not. Only an act of God will save you now." He glanced nervously over his shoulder and Graham held up his unbound hands. "Like this?" he asked. But the other man was already moving. Away from Graham and Adara. At a glance, Graham realized the others were doing the same. "Your hands will not save you this time," the guide said, breaking into a run. He called over his shoulder, "Do you know how near the edge of the city you are?" "Loony," Adara said with a laugh. "C'mon, get me untied. We can still catch them." But Graham wasn't looking after their former captors. As he brought the knife in his hand down on the rope around Adara's wrists, he said quietly, "Do you hear how quiet the streets are?" "So it's not a party district," Adara said dismissively. "Ssh," Graham hissed. "What?" Adara rubbed her wrists. "Quiet," Graham ordered, his eyes narrowing. The streets weren't just quiet. They were nearly abandoned. What few people Graham saw seemed in a hurry to get indoors. In his youth, he'd seen similar behavior, but if he asked about it, his mentor would only ever tell him, "When you're ready, you'll understand." "Okay, silence is creeping me out," Adara whispered loudly. "Can we go now?" "I think we'd better," Graham answered softly. Abruptly, Adara clutched his arm and pointed to a dark alley. A form lurked there, half standing, barely visible in the low light. As if sensing it was being watched, it turned toward them. "What is that?" Adara whispered. Eyes glittered in the darkness. A low growl rumbled out from it. "Something we're not trained to handle," Graham answered softly. "Run!" They did. The beast followed.
  2. Alright, as promised, here's my second. Name: Graham Jones Age: 27 Description: Image • Height: 6’1” • Weight: 180 lbs. • Hair: Brown, buzz-cut • Eyes: Blue • Weapon(s): Bow arrows, throwing knives, 1 long knife for close-quarters combat. • Apparel: As with Adara, Graham dresses in modern fashion while not playing a vigilante’s "sidekick." Unlike her showy costume, his is entirely black, including the mask History/Biography: The boy’s first recollection is a strange man lifting him off the street, and taking him home. His next is combat training. From an early age, he understood he was being prepared for something greater, and for many years, he accepted it without question. Then he saw Adara Moore from a distance and learned a completely different lesson: there are many paths life might take. When his master discovered his interest in the girl, he tried to beat it out of the boy. Instead, the boy, at fifteen years of age, took what his master had taught him and used it to save the girl. Though the girl’s parents offered him a home, he declined, promising he already had one. But when he returned to his master, he did not receive the welcome he expected. His master flew into a rage, insisting he was training the boy for something far more important than the life of a simple rich girl. Though the boy had heard this lecture many a time, this was the first time he demanded to know what he was being trained for. His master coldly informed him that there were monsters in the world and defeating them might well save all humanity. The boy, ever a skeptic demanded proof of the monsters, and his master insisted he wasn’t ready. Without proof, the boy called his master a delusional fool and left. With nowhere else to go, he returned to Adara’s home and asked if their offer of a place to stay was still valid. Adara’s father brought him into the house and took him aside. He explained to the boy that he was still concerned for Adara’s safety, but that she was reluctant about going out with a bodyguard. Her father hoped that this boy would be less conspicuous, and therefore more acceptable to Adara. The boy promised to keep an eye out for her. Upon learning he didn’t have a name, Adara’s father called him Graham Jones, after a distant ancestor, and welcomed him to the family. Graham Jones has been with Adara ever since. He saved her from a second kidnapping attempt, saved her from the fire that claimed her parents, and reluctantly joined her in a vigilante lifestyle to continue guarding her life, as he promised her father he would. In return for his service and training, she taught him what it means to “play rich,” and now, no one would suspect young Graham Jones of being one of the pair of masked vigilantes patrolling their streets.
  3. Sorry, Doc. I'm actually ready if you want to get this moving. My second character will be up tomorrow night when I'm off work. That's a promise.
  4. Hah! Yes, indeed. What's this night been? Going on two days now. Sorry, I keep getting distracted. Here's the first: Name: Adara Moore Age: 29 Description: Image • Height: 5’ 7” • Weight: 125 lbs. • Hair: Brown, shoulder, length, curly, often artificially straightened. • Eyes: Blue • Weapon(s): Bow, arrows, throwing knives, 1 long knife for close-quarters combat. • Apparel: For her day-to-day life, Adara dresses in the fashions of the era. As a vigilante, she wears a mask, and a costume done in the same style/colors. History/Biography: Adara Moore was born into wealth, but her parents were careful in raising her. Not everything she desired was given to her. She was taught the value of her future wealth long before she would ever be able to spend it. At seventeen years of age, she was kidnapped, to be held for ransom, but a boy two years younger defeated her guards and returned her to her family. Realizing the boy was one of the orphaned street rats, Adara’s father offered him a place to live in exchange for his service to the family. The boy declined, saying he already had a home. But a week later, he returned and asked if the offer was still open. This new addition to their house fascinated Adara. She spent much of her free time with him, even inviting him to attend various social events with her. They introduced him as Graham Jones, a distant cousin come to live in the city for a while. In a matter of weeks, they were inseparable, for Graham was as fascinated by Adara as she was by him. But her interest in him took a sharp turn a month later when her would-be kidnappers tried again, and Graham fought them off, and was injured in the process. During his recovery Adara scarcely left his side. When he was conscious and feeling up to it, she pressed him with questions about his past. When at last he admitted he’d been trained in combat from a young age, she demanded that he teach her everything he knew, but he stubbornly refused. He insisted she didn’t know what she was asking, and for a time, she let him be. One year later, having failed to snatch Adara twice, the men responsible for the attempts instead set fire to her home. Graham got her to safety, but her parents died in the blaze. Deeply grieved, Adara first ordered the reconstruction of her home. Then, she ordered Graham to teach her how to fight. Again, he begged her to reconsider, but this time, her resolve was stronger. She insisted the deaths of her parents could not go unanswered. Graham tried to persuade her that he could hunt them himself, but Adara answered that if he did, she would never speak to him again. Reluctantly, he began training her, much as he had once been trained. Adara took his training and put it into use as a vigilante. By the time she was twenty-five, she’d created a mask and costume, and made secret purchases of a specialized bow, arrows, and knives. Graham joined her in her vigilante activities, though more because he knew Adara’s father, were he still living, would kill Graham if something happened to Adara. And since he can’t stop her, he just has to do his best to make sure she doesn’t get herself killed. Needless to say, his costume is much less flashy than hers. In four years, they've hunted down the men responsible for the death of Adara's parents, as well as a few other notorious criminals. What they don't know is that their next hunt will bring them face to face with something they're not remotely prepared to deal with.
  5. Yes, still working on them. Sorry, been surprisingly busy lately. Should be able to finish at least one tonight, I think.
  6. I resemble that remark. Coming in with two of my own, actually. And hey! One of them has a name already!
  7. The redhead was already on her knees by the bag before he had finished, one of his shirts in her hands. She looked up at him, looking for a moment as though she would insist upon helping. Instead, she got back to her feet and handed his shirt back to him, apologizing again for the inconvenience. With that, she turned and hurried away to the table where she'd indicated she'd be waiting for a drink.
  8. With a little laugh, she placed a hand on his shoulder and shook her head. "Need? Hardly. Want? Certainly. But who doesn't have something they want?" She shrugged and let her hand fall from his shoulder. "I overheard you saying you'd be joining the caravan. Since you certainly don't look the merchant type, it had me curious." She hesitated a brief moment, then shook her head again. "But someone unwilling to play games is also likely to be unwilling to divulge his reason for travel. And so, I'm terribly sorry to have bothered you." To the woman who'd returned with Kyo's water and was looking inquiringly at her, the redhead added, "White wine, a sweet one, if you have it. At that table. I'm just leaving this one." She rose from her chair, pushed it in, and walked around behind the warrior, again putting a hand on his shoulder as she passed. "A pleasure to meet you, sir," she said. As she moved around the corner of the table to leave, her foot caught on his bag, and she stumbled awkwardly over it. Though she managed to stay on her feet, his bag sprang open, dumping some of its contents to the floor. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" she cried, blushing and taking a quick step back toward the bag to help him recover his things.
  9. As the woman departed from his table with a bewildered look, a hand came down gently on the chair beside Kyo and pulled it back from the table. The woman to whom it belonged was tall, though not overly so with dark red hair that fell loosely about her shoulders, and pale blue eyes that carried a mischievous sparkle that matched the smirk on her lips. Her gaze was fixed on the warrior as she took the seat beside him, running her hands behind her legs to prevent her midnight green dress and long black cloak from bunching as she sat. "Just water," she said. "There are sixteen types of people in this world, and only three of them would opt for just water. So the question is... which one are you?" She smiled fully. "Or are you going to make me guess?"
  10. At Luna's approach, the Justicar turned to face her, examining her from head to foot as she spoke. The excited tone was indeed unmistakable and beneath her helmet, the Justicar smiled warmly. Through the narrow slit in her helmet, her blue eyes sparkled, conveying a mixture of amusement and understanding. "I'm sure you will, young one," she said. She gestured for Luna to follow as she headed for the nearest door into Zakera Ward. "Councilor Tevos and Commander Bailey are right to fear my presence," she went on. She led Luna through the crowd with a purposeful stride, her destination clearly known to her. "It is neither willingly nor lightly that I have returned to the Citadel. I don't imagine Tevos has told you anything. She knows very little herself." As she walked, the Justicar spared another brief glance at Luna. "You're a Commando. Tevos wouldn't send anyone else, and your build and stride give you away. Your eyes..." She hesitated, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter, and tainted with regret. "Heavens, child. You're so young."
  11. Bailey laughed humorlessly. "Good. Too much longer and I think she'd have ventured out on her own. She keeps saying she knows the Citadel as good or better than she knows Thessia or Illium." He pointed to an armored and helmeted woman standing by a nearby window. "There's your Justicar. Oh, and one more word of advice, Ms. Ir'sai. Don't ask her name. Dunno why, but she's determined not to give one. Broke our DNA scanner on her way in so we wouldn't get any name but "Justicar" for her."
  12. Yeah, it has a way of doing that ;)

  13. lol yeah sorry XD RL got in the way..... ;~;

  14. Evidently, your definition of "tonight" is a lot longer than mine :D

  15. That sounds perfect :D I'll get to work on that by tonight ;)

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