She turned the doorbnob. Once, politely. Then once, violently. For good measure she kicked it. Embarrassed, she righted herself, and brushed her skirt demurely.
"Surely, there is some mistake," she said.
The forced smile was audible.
Bad souls have born better sons, better souls born worse ones -St Vincent
Pratik wasn't quite sure how many people were supposed to be appearing, but he hoped it wasn't many more. He didn't like being this outnumbered. Even though he didn't feel particularly threatened by any of them.
A note appeared in the center of the table, catching his attention. He stepped forward swiftly and grabbed it before anyone else could, then read it silently.
Our fates have become one save my life or lose your own let your ambition guide your steps
It didn't make any sense.
My ambition is guiding my steps away from here. He tossed the note back on the table and started towards the door, deciding that this mysterious note must mean that everyone had arrived so now he could leave.
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
Jay watched as the newcomer did the same thing the rest of them did: attempt to open the door in vain. But his attention was stolen away by the tall mercenary ripping a piece of paper off the table and reading it. As he dropped it back onto the table and watched the man march over to the door with some sense of purpose, Jay decided to take a look at the note himself.
It only took him a few seconds to read the small riddle that was there.
"Huh," he commented. "There's a cryptic note."
He paused, looking at the middle line in particular.
"The only people that need saving are us," Pratik grumbled, barely resisting the urge to hit the door again when it still wouldn't open.
Fine. If he couldn't fight his way out, he'd simply out-wit his captor. At least now he could use the others as leverage. Maybe one of them brought something useful. He just needed to know what he had to work with.
"So, I suppose that means we should work together." He'd found people were more willing to cooperate if you pretended to care about their opinions. "So... Why are you all here?"
Pratik pulled the help wanted advertisement out of his pocket and threw it down on the table, hoping others would follow suit so that he could see theirs.
Spoiler! :
Reminder that the notes are all charmed so that they can only see their own profession. So, like, if Jay looks at Pratik's note then Jay would read it as another ad for a Jeweller, even though it's the exact same note that Pratik sees as an ad for a mercenary.
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
Name and pronouns: Ophelia Endo (She/her) Race (human, elf, dwarf, etc.): Demi-ghost Occupation (i.e., physician, ranger, bard, etc.): Bard Age: 17 (at least in human years) Personality: loud, snappy, enjoys making fun of others, never really shy, loves sneering and smirking. but she still isn't that evil, not really, or at least maybe 40% evil. Appearance (just a few lines is okay): wispy white hair, translucent skin (although she can't go through walls or anything, she just . . . is translucent . . .), short stature, but appears taller because she levitates slightly above the ground. she wears dark green robes and no shoes Abilities (if any, it's fine if not!):when she recites a particularly heartfelt poem, part of it (or all of it) could become reality. although this phenomenon is rare, it is completely random and often ends with a negative change than a positive one. She does believe herself to be a good poet, however.
Also, she by NO MEANS is intangible or invisible. she can't 'haunt' people or do any other weird stuff that most people would think a ghost can. All she does is levitate and is slightly translucent.
Spoiler! :
shady i hope this character is ok and follows the guidelines of this RP. if not, i'll gladly change the character.
Ophelia
Sometimes, Ophelia tells herself that it's not that hard to be a Demi-ghost. All she needs to do is cover herself in a really long cloak and look down. She would recite poetry with a hood on, as to not have people find out she's a ghost. No one had noticed bfeore, so there would be no reason that no one would notice on an extremely rainy day.
Ophelia had never encountered rainy days before, since she mostly lived in drying climates, and when it did rain, she'd hide to dry her cloak. However, she'd traveled quite a bit, and when dark thunderclouds came overhead, Ophelia knew there would be an issue.
"I need to find cover," growled Ophelia, and glanced at a little board with posters and papers on it, along with a mini-roof.
So Ophelia hid under it for shelter from the rain.
It rained and rained and rained. As a pastime, she looked at some of the papers on the board. One of them caught her eye.
Help needed: Bard
That was the most hilarious thing Ophelia had ever seen. Who 'needs' bards? However, after a moment of pondering, she realized this could be a genuine advertisement. After all, maybe someone had heard her poetry and wanted to hire her, but had no idea where she was! (Though not very plausible, Ophelia still chose to believe this.)
After the rain ended, Ophelia quickly navigated her way to where the directions led. When she neared the area called the 'Quandary Cottage', she noticed a few signs of life, but not much. Some horses, some footprints. So she opened the door to the cottage and entered, wearing her cloak as usual. She saw a man throw a piece of paper on the ground and looking hopefully at the other people in the room.
When even more people came and those already here had started talking amongst themselves, Nikolai hadn't known what to do besides stand in stunned silence for a while.
All he'd wanted was a quick chat with an employer, and to spend a while sketching a commission up to get a fair payment. Why was that too much to ask for? He hadn't meant to get locked up with a bunch of people who talked. This whole thing was getting suspicious pretty fast.
After glancing at the note that had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, thinking about how the person writing it must have been a little indecisive about their choice of font, Nikolai took a look at the copy of the ad the tall man had just set on the table. There seemed to be a bit confusion about those.
“Well, it says they wanted an artist,” he said timidly. “Not six of them, and I’m pretty surprised at the turnout. Some of you don’t really look like artists, though, if you don’t mind me saying so...”
Nikolai’s gaze landed on each of them in turn, taking it all in. His expression only got more confused with each person.
“Actually, none of you look like artists.”
"silv is obsessed with heists" ~Omni
"silv why didn't you tell me you were obsessed with heists I thought we were friends" ~Ace
"y’all we outnumber silver let’s overthrow her >:]" ~winter
Rea examined the others' papers. "You're all medics? At least, that's what I can see." Her eyes lit up. "Perhaps this some kind of charm? I've read of one where people from different places are put in a room and made to interact with each other. They all speak their native languages, but to each of them the others are speaking their language too, if that makes sense." She glanced at the human with a pendant around his neck. "You said you were an artists, and said none of us look like artists. So... I assume that's what your ad asks for? And you can see only that even on our papers."
She let out a squeak of excitement and began rummaging in her satchel, extricating a pencil and paper in a minute. "I need to take notes! This is fascinating!"
"I believe a man does what he can until his destiny is revealed to him."
Pratik crossed his arms petulantly and looked around the room, then back down at the note he'd thrown down on the table. He just saw calls for mercenaries, but what the small woman said made sense. He supposed.
It certainly made more sense than any of them also being mercenaries. He wasn't sure whether that fact relieved him or made him even more uneasy. On the one hand, he didn't have to worry about any of the people he was trapped with. On the other, they would probably be utterly useless if a real threat appeared.
He silently made a mental note of all the professions of the people who offered them, then reached down and picked up two of the ads, trying to see if there was any discernible difference between them.
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
"Okay, so this ad has a magical 'charm' that makes us all see something else relevant to who we are," Jay say. "So whoever made these ads might not even care who we are or what we do. They just need help or we'll die if we don't save them. Too bad we have no idea who they are or what they need saving from."
Jay took his ad and folded it up, slipping it under his poncho into his pant pocket.
"I know I for one didn't come here to save anyone, but it doesn't look like we have much of a choice if we can't escape unless we cooperate with whatever magic it is that made this trap."
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