[1989] A Very Specific Wake

[Ashdown Crier]

As far as holes in the wall go, Andromache is more hole-in-the-wall than most. It is accessed via a single door sandwiched between a 24-hour deli and a wig shop, the single sign suggesting a hair salon or a dermatology practice more than a bar. The stairwell ascends into the gloom, treads creaking up towards a ceiling draped in scarlet velvet and twinkling with tiny magical lights.

An off-duty cop, Asian-American, his hair buzzed close to his scalp, leans against the banister on the landing, his back against a wall of posters for various drag performers, his badge displayed casually over his plainclothes. “It’s all-ages tonight,” he says, nodding you in. “Honor system. Don’t cause trouble.”

Inside, Andromache is dimly lit as all the best dives are. The bar has an antique look to it - cherry wood and brass, the top polished to a shine. Liam Noor - the strange, young version of him - is tending, cutting lemons into careful wedges by the light of a buzzing neon sign for Coors. He looks up every so often, scans the room, looks back down to his growing pile of citrus sections.

Across the bar, perched on a leather-topped bar stool, a 30-something woman nurses her beer. Her dark hair is pulled into a messy bun. The shoulder pads on her jacket are a little too big. It looks like she may already be a drink or two deep, with no plans of stopping.

Beside her, a blonde woman a few years younger holds a martini, her back against the bar as she watches the proceedings on the stage. She worries the toothpick in her drink and its attached olive back and forth between her thin fingers. The shadows beneath her eyes are deep, but could be deeper. She looks like… Temperance, but not the one you know.

On the table nearest to the door, there is a collection of photographs and a guest book, a few candles for the lighting if you’re into that sort of thing - some people already here clearly are.

At the next closest table, a pair of teenagers - one brown-haired, one flaxen - are hunkered down with a growing collection of soda cans, splitting a basket of french fries. A striking young woman sits with them, her dark hair pulled up into an elaborate updo, her dark eyes lined with thick black kohl, her lips painted a deep blood red that contrasts her golden skin. She wears a high-necked black gown, the sleeveless cut accentuating her thin shoulders, the edge of her collarbone. She does not eat.

A few tables away, past a collection of patrons who do not seem particularly noteworthy, a steely-haired man in his 60s holds court all by himself. He has no drinks and no food, but holds his hands folded on the table in front of him like he’s in a house of worship. His expression is inscrutable but, you think, deeply sad, as he keeps his eyes locked on what’s happening onstage.

The first drag queen has something of a shrinking violet aura, though that may be an intentional affectation. She is closer to the end of the thrust stage, her arms crossed so that the butterfly-patterned sleeves of her kimono overlap. She does not wear it properly - the collar slips down her shoulders, exposing something soft and made of lace worn underneath. Her face is powdered shock-white, her lips pink as cherry blossoms, her eyes an improbable, milky blue.

All of her attention is on the master of ceremonies, and it is hard for yours not to be drawn there, too.

You recognize Sibyl Liberties from the poster on the landing. She is tall and angular, wearing a cream-colored suit jacket that sharply contrasts her dark skin. It is fastened over her otherwise bare chest with a single button, cinching her waist to an almost impossibly narrow dimension. Beneath the suit jacket, she wears a matched mini-skirt, fishnets, and towering heels. Her hair is teased up to heaven, dark and shiny as raven feathers. Her enormous metallic earrings glitter in the light.

Like everyone else here tonight, you think you may have seen her before somewhere.

“If you don’t have a drink yet,” Sibyl suggests to the crowd, her voice smooth and silky and surprisingly high, “now’s a good time to get one.”

By the stage, one can see and speak to Sibyl Liberties and Mika Do.

Down at the bar, you can find Liam, Erin, and Temperance.

Over in the booths, you can find Shiloh, Jamie, Dana, Shun, and Jeremiah.

The mood is somber. Nobody seems to feel much like drinking or dancing.

Full cast bios here.

 

[Ashdown Crier]

persuasion.
Making it successfully through the meta will be largely predicated on the characters' ability to find the information they need in a timely manner. Persuasion is not an easy thing in an era where the player characters don't belong, so this is much tougher than it sounds. Persuasion is based on a single d20 roll for every question you ask or favor you request. This means if you make one roll to get an NPC to give you an answer to your question, that doesn't carry over and mean they'll answer your next question. You must roll anew for every new question.

Please remember we are roleplaying. Just because you roll high doesn't mean that a character will automatically open up to you and spill all the beans; you still have to earn their trust first! Consider spending a little while buttering them up or intimidating them first: particularly successful attempts will earn persuasion roll bonuses at the discretion of the GMs.

Each NPC has a different threshold for persuasion, which is in the cast post of your main thread. The lower the number, the easier to persuade. Low-rating NPCs are unlikely to have valuable information to share, however.

Sharing information will be vital to the event. You may create your own PRP threads in the event forum for this purpose.

If you chose to purchase an upgrade to your ability to persuade in phase one, please note this at the top of your post. There are three or four people handling each thread, so this makes it easier for all of us to keep track of who's got what bonuses.

Quick Reference of Persuasion Rolls
Sibyl Liberties: 20
Mika Do: 14
Liam Noor: 18
Temperance Clark: 12
Erin Alda: 5
Shun Kuroda: 10
Jeremiah Tailor: 15
Jamie Delacroix: 8
Shiloh Beaumont: 8
Dana: 12

 

[Ashdown Crier]

combat.
Combat will be very simple. Combatants roll 1d20 per round. The lower number takes five damage. Everyone has a pool of 25hp, which is persistent throughout this section of the meta: unless healed by another character, your hit points will not increase or decrease outside of combat. Should both combatants agree (oocly), the fight can end or be interrupted before a combatant is knocked out. Reaching zero means that your character cannot join any other fights for the rest of the meta unless healed. Some fights have the chance to end in death or incapacitation: these will be clearly labeled and clearly avoidable.

There are some exceptions to the five damage rule:

>Your character has a firearm. Firearms inflict 10 damage, but they also subtract 3 points from your roll. You must call that you're using a firearm when you make your original roll and this cannot be retracted.
>Your character is using magic. Magic inflicts 10 damage, absolute, no matter what your opponent rolls, but it takes a round for your character to focus enough to make it do. So you'd call magic (with no roll) in the first round, take 5 damage from your opponent, and in the second round (if you're still standing) your opponent takes ten damage from you. You must still roll to dodge their attack.
>Your character is healing another. Healing doesn't require a roll. You just post that you're healing and who the target is, and they regain 5 health.
>You can't perform two actions on the same round. You can't attempt to block and heal at the same time; nor can you attempt to attack and heal.


ADDENDUM:
In a 2v1 situation where one character is attempting to block for another, all characters still roll. Blocking doesn't automatically succeed. For the block to be successful, both characters (blocker and blockee) have to roll above the attacker. The attacker takes no damage in this situation.

Formula:
A = Attacker
B = Blocker
C = Defended

A outrolls B + C: A succeeds in attacking C, C takes 5 damage.
A outrolls B, but not C: B takes 5 damage, block is successful.
A outrolls C, but not B: B fails to block, but does cause damage to A. A + C take 5 damage.
A is outrolled by both B and C: No one takes damage. Block is successful.

 

[Ashdown Crier]

xxx  

[endejester]

{Persuasion roll +2 from stage 1)
Zac Bantock - 25/25


It’s such a small place, so unobtrusive but at the same time he finds a delight in walking up the stairs into the gloom. It feels like something out of a movie, but it’s so tremendously real. The velvet draped ceiling, rich scarlet and winking with small lights.

The cop at the door gives him a moment’s pause, familiar though the shaved hair makes him blink. The light warning to be on good behavior, he gives a nod that he hopes doesn’t look as nervous as he feels.

Inside though, his mouth hangs open, he can’t help it. He’s never actually been to a place like this, no surprise perhaps given his own age. He keeps moving but it’s a conscious effort to do so because what he really wants to do is stop and stare. His hands rising, fingers interlaced to press against his mouth to cover it’s gape, but he lowers them again a moment later as he glances for a place to be out of the way. He dressed as nicely as he could afford, but at the same time he’d dressed with the expectation that dressing … overtly in any feminine manner would get him more trouble than it was worth. Not that he hadn’t slipped on something beneath his button down that gave him more delight than the humdrum clothing that was otherwise offered.

He’s not sure were to direct himself. He wanted to go to the stage and remark on the outfits, He wants to walk up and tell them they are beautiful but he’s so stunned by everything that as ‘Sybil Liberties’ – known only because of the poster on the landing, and that sense of familiarity, suggests a drink, and that now would be a good time to get one he drifts towards the bar like it was an order.

His gaze lingers on the man with the steely hair, hands folded like he is already sending a prayer for this ‘Remembrance’, but its at least in part because of who that face and that hair remind him of.



Turning his gaze back to the bar he realizes that he’s in line to talk to Liam again, and hesitates. Earlier in park it had gotten, awkward. So awkward and he wasn’t even the one who had been mobbed.

“Mister Noor.” He said after a moment in greeting. “I – wanted to apologize for earlier, for leaving so abruptly. I wasn’t expecting to… I wasn’t expecting to draw a crowd. May I… I’m afraid it can’t be alcoholic, but might I buy you a drink to apologize? O-or a book, I could return with a book…”

He sounded terribly foolish and he knew it, or at least he was sure of it. Who the HELL offered to buy someone a book? Idiot… top that off with the fact he was trying not to stare at the stage.

“I don’t suppose they are hiring.” He murmured thoughtfully before he realized what he’d just said and ducked his head blushing furiously.

silverah

Hi Liam...sorry

Quote:

Anyone else <3

 

[Silverah]

Liam paused, knife hovering awkwardly above the cutting board, and he looked up at Zac. "Griff," he said, brow crinkling. "How did you...?"

He shook his head. "Never mind. Don't worry about it. It wasn't... that big a deal."

He held up the soda gun and reached for a clean glass. "What can I get you? Coke? Sprite? Orange Fanta?"

He didn't seem to catch Zac's last question - or else he was ignoring it.

endejester

 

[endejester]

“S-Sprite please.” He said and rubbed his arm. “Sorry, the um… the Coriander’s they, send their regard of sorts.” He said referring to kind couple whom he was staying with.

“Would you like a hand with the Lemons?” He offered.

Silverah

 

[Silverah]

Liam prepared the drink and slid it across the bar. "I have it under control," he said, glancing down at the lemons. "I'm afraid I can't let you behind the bar. Health department rules."

He set the soda gun down, the motion taking a little too long. "I thought you were just visiting? How do you know them?"

Endejester

 

[endejester]

Zachary - (+2 persuasion)

“I mentioned having a Job here.” He said rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s their bookstore I work in. I hadn’t realized you knew them until you came by. “

“…I suppose it’s bad if I cut them on this side of the bar as well.” He said thoughtful.

“Thank you... for the soda though." he said quietly and excused himself.
Half way he wanted to go talk to Jeremiah, but he also dreadfully wanted to go talk to the 'Ladies' on the stage.

"Sorry... um...Hello, I hope its not a bad time to say it but, I wanted to say you both look, um, well you both look really outstanding."

Silverah

edited sorry!

Shibrogane

 

[Melancholies]

Oliver Beaumont // +1 persuasion rolls

After the stint following the protest (and a long, thoughtful talk about the ordeal), Oliver and his companions had settled on the idea that yeah, going to this weird bar was a good (see: no other options) idea. They had no idea how to get back to their time and no idea for what they needed to be looking for as far as fixing the "tear" went, so the obvious course of action was to look into the fact that the Liam fellow knew both Jamie and his brother.

It was too peculiar not to.

Needless to say, the aforementioned dynamic duo was lagging behind him somewhere (probably fawning over each other some more, or maybe consoling one another, or who really knew), which left Oliver in the lead. Thankfully they had spend their time searching out the bar in question, but Oliver still almost missed the damn place regardless.

Hole in the wall was right.

Greeting the unfamiliar bouncer, he ducked down into the depths of the scene, looking around the gathered group curiously. The atmosphere was somber. Then again, they had been informed that it was a wake...

Almost immediately he noticed his brother sitting in a booth, scarfing down fries with Jamie and some... strange women. How the hell did they get here before him? He looked over his shoulder, waiting to watch them descend the stairs, but they never did. Leave it to tweedle dee and tweedle dum to hoof it into a bar for free food before him, he guessed.

“I swear, I let you guys out of my sight for five goddamn minutes and this happens." he said, faux-exasperated as he walked over unsuspectingly to the group. “How the hell did you get here before me?" actually, it looked like they'd been here for a little while...

Silverah

ready for

shibrogane

massive confusion

 

[saedusk]

Jamie Delacroix | 25/25

+1 to Persuasion

Past the bouncer who looked a lot like Detective Kuroda, down the stairs that opened wide into Andromache, Jamie was immediately struck with awe. Beyond the undeniably solemn atmosphere of a wake for people he'd never rightly met—and Jamie did feel a touch guilty for that—there was something else, something deeply profound. He passed right by the booths, right by where Oliver was stopped and mistaking two impossibly perfect lookalikes for him and Shiloh, and made way towards the stage.

Eyes wide and wondrous, he took a moment to watch Sibyl, to listen as she mentioned drinks as if it weren't a mundane and ordinary suggestion. Jamie let himself think for a split second about getting a coke before his attention drew back to the stage and the master of ceremonies.

"Shiloh," he said, not turning around, because Jamie knew he wasn't far behind, "I feel kinda funny. D'you think it's just because we're not supposed to be here?" His voice was low, not loud enough for anyone but Shiloh to hear.

Finally he looked away from the stage and added, "It... feels kinda like crashing a party. Except it's a wake, which seems almost worse."

Melancholiessss

 

[Melancholies]

Shiloh Beaumont

Shiloh agreed with Jamie's silent thoughts. That man definitely looked like Detective Kuroda, but he passed it off as a fluke. Jamie and Oliver had filled him in on the weird happening with the Liam guy, but he didn't put too much thought into it. Shiloh rarely did. Life was about the moment and sometimes dwelling on the past, but never really planning for the future. It never was when life threw you curve balls everyday and every morning rose up as a new struggle to get through. He considered himself adaptable as a result; adept, ready, resourceful.

Regardless of this, Andromache was... he couldn't place it. He'd been to bars before, but this was bizarre, and not in any sort of traditional sense—the air tasted somber and his skin itched like his flowers wanted to bloom, but there was no outward response. He was still flora-less and his magic had been wound back down to square one. Being normal felt odd. It felt nice too, but it felt distinctly vulnerable.

“I dunno..." he echoed Jamie quietly, ducking down just enough to whisper against his ear. It felt like—like if he talked too loudly, he might disturb everything that was so carefully set up here. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be here; hell, he wasn't sure if they had any realistic right. They probably didn't.

It didn't stop him from following Jamie's gaze to the stage, equally starry eyed at the sight.

Perhaps he wasn't as enchanted as Jamie was, but the magic was still there. Everything about the moment seemed utterly ethereal and ephemeral all at once, like a gentle breeze might disturb everything and send the whole wake crashing. He didn't want to ruin this. He couldn't ruin this. He wanted to leave; but where else would they go? This was their only lead—and it was honestly only a lead in the sense of peculiarity rather than anything concrete.

“Hey..." His voice rose slightly, but it was still soft. “I wanna get closer to the stage." he nudged Jamie towards the front to get a better look, partially because he wanted it himself, partially because he could tell Jamie wanted it to. “We can bail if anything bad happens. We'll protect each other, yeah?" there was trust and reassurance in his tone.

saedusk

bb

silverah

watching u ladies

shibrogane

up on stage

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

She moved into the bar, incredibly nervous because, well, she'd lied to get the information at all. This was a wake! And yes, here she was, here the others were, to gather information. It all felt highly disrespectful, even if they didn't have another choice. Temperance ducked her head as she passed the buzz-cut cop - of course he was a cop or guard or something, even in this alternate setting.

Once inside, Temperance was kind of shocked at the sheer amount of faces she halfway recognized. Including, well, her own. Sort of. It was like looking through a distorted mirror. She wondered if this was how people with identical twins felt. Probably not. They were... though luck or by fate, even wearing similar clothing. She slid her palms down her thighs and moved towards the bar, sparing a glance and a smile for Zac.

"H-hey, there, stranger." Temperance swallowed and smile at Temperance.

shibrogane

silverah

endejester

 

[Smerdle]

Rabbit Vaughn, bar, persuasion +1

He had heard there'd be free booze at the bar between the deli and the wigs, and although Manny, Sanchez, and Pete were paying him enough for a meal or so every day, liquor had sadly been absent from his diet since he'd arrived. He missed it.

Rabbit waited until night had fallen that Thursday before entering Andromache and making his way upstairs, fingers trailing along the wall as he climbed. He hadn't come across anyone he knew in the city yet, hadn't ventured to Staten Island to try and meet this dimension's version of his family, and as a result, when he entered the space and crossed to the bar, his life suddenly felt like an episode of supernatural Romper Room for the very first time.

I see Shiloh and Shun and Jeremiah and...

He dropped onto a stool on the opposite side of the bar from a pair of familiar blondes, and he stopped breathing when he realized at least one of them was Temperance.

The Semblance of Skoonity

hi just watchin creepy twin temps

 

[shibrogane]

"Thanks," says Sibyl Liberties. She smiles. It's a very sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. "You don't look half bad yourself." Mika Do, over to Sibyl's right, smiles shyly and hides her face behind a sleeve. "Mika, he looks like you," she says, propping a hand up onto her hip. "It's uncanny. You must be Griff, then."

endejester

The young woman between Shiloh and Jamie's face tightens, especially about the eyes. "Shiloh, you know him?" Her hands are folded in her lap beneath the table, shoulders rounded.

Shiloh has blanched. "Ollie?" His voice is shaking. So are his hands. "What the ******** looked away, his entire posture saying I'm pretending not to be here.

Melancholies

Temperance 2 looks away from the stage. "Oh, damn," she says. "They say there's only twenty faces, but that's damn uncanny. Hello." She doesn't smile. She seems, if anything, quietly envious. "Who're you here for? I don't think I've seen you before."

The Semblance of Unity