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Blizzard



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Tue Mar 14, 2017 2:35 pm
sheysse says...



The blizzard has raged on for several weeks, with no sign of stopping in the near future. The people of us this land must either adjust to the new weather, or die trying.

What caused the blizzard? Will it end? Will we survive? No one knows the answers, but they do know one thing.

Their world will never be the same.





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Wed Mar 15, 2017 5:15 am
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Sujana says...



This is all my fault.

Raoul looked out the window, his hands on his temples, his fingers already freezing the sweat dripping down. "Mr. Konig?" the innkeeper, a stout and motherly woman with no children, said, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Mr. Konig, I suggest you stay away from the windows--"

"No," Raoul shooed the woman's hand away, afraid of getting any closer to her. The bottom of his back bumped onto the windowsill, and he grunted, covering his pain with an awkward smile. "I mean, uh, yes--I was just, um--seeing how the weather was doing."

Miss January grinned at him, though her eyes looked anxious. "Oh, the weather's been dreadful as of late, my dear," she said, clasping her hands over her dress. "I know I said that you'll be able to leave last week, but now I'm not too sure. It seems too dangerous for anybody to leave."

Raoul clutched his fingers, realizing that he'd been holding the windowsill. The warm, pine wood had quickly grown icicles where he touched it, and he slapped the icicles aside, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. Soon, his legs were cold. "Oh, it's, uh, it's fine, Miss," he said, laughing, "I'll leave when I can. I've been through worse weather, I'm sure."

Miss January looked at him, strangely, already taking notice of the icicles. "Mr. Konig--"

"I better get back to my room," he said, walking to the corridor where all the inn rooms were, "I'll see you soon, Miss January."

January had several other questions to shout as he sped away, but Raoul wasn't in the mood for chatter. What he needed was an escape plan.

Spoiler! :
well that answers one question quickly enough
"For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief."

Ecclesiastes 1: 18





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Thu Mar 16, 2017 3:01 am
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AlyTheBookworm says...



Adia stared- her face almost pressed against the icy glass of the kitchen window, transfixed as the snow continued to fall... It was beaten down by the howling wind and slowly, slowly coated everything in a fuzzy blue as night came on...

She reached up and tentatively placed a hand on the cold glass. Noticing that it didn't leave the mark that a warm, living hand would have, she quickly put it into her apron pocket.

"Back to work, Adi! Dishes don't wash 'emselves and the inn's gonna be jam-packed until that blizzard clears up. Better take advantage of it," Cook shouted as she walked past.

Adia pulled herself away from the window, eyes staring vacantly for a moment as she sat- lost in thought. Another yell shook her back to her senses, "What? You deaf as well as mute, girl?!"

Shaking her head timidly, she jumped off the stool and headed back to the kitchen.

"Hold it- Miss Jan wants you to take these out instead. Table ten," Cook snapped, wearing an unusually dark expression. She gets like that when she's worried... The thought flickered dully through Adia's mind before fading away, unexplained.

Adia nodded, head down as usual, as she took a tray of steaming soup bowls and obediently walked into the main room of the inn.

As she walked, she noticed an anxious-looking man step away from the windowsill and head upstairs. It quickly melted, but she almost.. she almost thought she saw a hand print on the sill. Outlined in ice and frost...

It sparked a memory. Something.. something....
Too late.

Adia continued to pass out soup bowls, silent as the drifting snow.

Spoiler! :
Adia is pale and short, with thin, feathery black hair that just reaches her shoulders. She's very nondescript and easy to miss- except for her eyes. They are a mix of silver and pale blue. Along with the fact that she is mute, they make people (who even notice) slightly uncomfortable.





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Thu Mar 16, 2017 5:15 am
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Sujana says...



Raoul knew it was a good idea to take the room with the widest window, but he didn't think he'd need to leave so early. His symptoms were worsening at a quicker pace than he initially expected--and he was all out of stabilizing shots.

He took his luggage and jumped out the window, a gust of air blowing into his dark features. It reminded him of Munich, and waiting outside in the snow-filled quad for the Professor to come out of the university library, and watching children skate on the frozen lake in the park in front of his flat.

Raoul always hated Germany.

Too late for regrets now, he thought, pulling on his gloves and boots. "Don't be dead now, Professor," he frowned. "I don't know how much time we have left."

And so he marched on in his boots, hoping to God none of the Polizei (or whatever they called them in this nation) were looking for him.

(Hoping to God they weren't looking for him.)

Spoiler! :
I forgot to add this, but Raoul is half-Indian, and thus he's black haired, brown-skinned, skeletal and lacking in a proper frame, and has very sunken eyes. He usually wears a coat and gloves for obvious reasons, and they're usually coffee brown or white.
"For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief."

Ecclesiastes 1: 18





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Tue Mar 21, 2017 8:56 am
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ThePatchworkPilgrims says...



"Lieutenant Heinrich! A word."

Everyone in the stuffy and overcrowded police station turned to look at Heinrich as he slowly made his way to the Chief of the Police's office. It wasn't uncommon for the Chief to call officers to his office, especially once they have higher ranks than cadet or patrol officer, but this was the first time after the Incident happened that Heinrich had received any recognition, albeit good or bad.

When Heinrich entered the office, he was surprised at how quiet it was inside it, where only moments ago he had been drowning in the noise of the station. The Chief was sitting at his desk,but gave no indication for Heinrich to sit as well, so he remained standing.

"You wished to see me, Chief," Heinrich said.

"I have a case for you," was all the Chief said before continuing to type on his keyboard.

After several moments of silence, Heinrich spoke up again. "What case might that be Chief?"

"You are being tasked with tracking down and detaining these individuals with the utmost haste." the Chief pushed a stack of three files towards Heinrich, who picked them up and opened to see the three pictures. He immediately recognised two of them, the Indian and the old man, but the girl was unfamiliar to him.

"The reason for detainment, Chief?" he asked.

"None given. I received this order from some very high up. You'll take care not to ask anymore unwanted questions."

Taking that as a sign for him to leave, Heinrich walked over to the door. As he was about to open it, however, he turned around to ask one more question.

"Why me, Chief?" he asked, knowing the reason but wanting to hear it even so.

"Because, lieutenant Heinrich, you're the one who got us into this mess in the first place. Now go before I have you stripped of your rank."

Spoiler! :
Heinrich is tall, and brawny, with broad shoulders. He has short, military-style black hair, with light green eyes that sometimes change with his mood. He usually wears a long, black overcoat with black gloves. His pistol is holstered to his left hip under the overcoat and his suit.
Former incarnations have been:
TheWanderingWizard
TheClockworkConjurer
TheIllusiveIntellect
TheSunderingSorceror
And, TheMaieuticMesmerist


Proudly [They/Them]





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Tue Mar 21, 2017 10:44 am
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Sujana says...



"Sie sind auch Deutsch?" the cabby driver asked, and Raoul had realized he'd been muttering German curses at his phone. Usually, it was because he couldn't even touch his tap screen phone, considering his situation, but a thin handkerchief over his fingers seemed to fix that for now (his gloves were too thick). This time, it was purely on the news.

"Uh, no," he lied, glancing out the frosting window, "I work with a lot of Germans. Their mannerisms are mine."

The cabby looked at him, evidently unconvinced, but he wasn't willing to argue. "Shame," he said, "I've been very lonely around here. It's exciting, hearing Scheisskerl from someone other than myself."

Raoul flushed red, and he coughed. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that," he said, "What brought you to Luxembourg?"

The face that the cab driver gave him was...telling. "Luxembourg, der Kamerad?" the cab driver laughed. "You must've drunk too much last night. You're in France."

Raoul sat there for a moment, before laying back in his seat, staring at his phone. The headline stood there, still--French Authorities Searching for Wanted Junior Professor of Munich University. His name was in there, and so was his picture, and his background, and the Professor's background, and the German police's involvement, and--

Well. He'd rather not think about the Lieutenant.

"How quickly could you drive me to Paris?" he asked.

The cabby driver shrugged. "I'll take you. Where specifically?"

"Descartes University," Raoul said, though he had this horrible feeling that the Professor wouldn't be there anymore. The Professor was hopping through European universities, texting Raoul the university he was currently at, giving Raoul twenty-four hours to reach him. So far the weather has stopped him from ever actually meeting the deadline, and the Professor would simply hop away again, avoiding police attention.

Raoul still had 12-hours, give-or-take--but he didn't know how long Heinrich would give the Professor.

"Sir?" the cabby driver said, in a distant voice. Raoul didn't seem to be listening. "Sir, are you alright? You look--oh God."

Raoul collapsed on the backseat, thoughts circling in his head like the snowflakes circling outside his window. He'd dropped his phone and his handkerchief, and he had a chance to look at his hand, touch his face. Both were nearly frozen over.

The last thing he heard was the sudden stop of the car, and the cab driver dialing 112.
"For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief."

Ecclesiastes 1: 18








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