Core

"I'd ask why, but I rather not discuss with a killer who has a weapon at hand." Ray giggled nervously. "I assume you only got knifes? Or some king of slinger too?" Ray picked the wooden box and smelled the inside, which had a very strong and deep scent. "By the way, do you know what this is?" Ray was pointing at the cigars. "I'd swear I've seen something like this somewhere many years ago, but I just can't recall. There are also drinks here. They say good wines get better with time." He was pointing now at a small compartment with several liquor bottles inside, all of them so tightly packed they hadn't even moved when the boat fell off the logs holding it.

"I want to learn how to kill."
 
"Oh, that's alright, I can't drink" she said. "And that pack of cigarette can come in handy: it's a good bribe."

She chuckled as she moved around the boat. "You want to know how to kill? Okay."

She pulled out a knife from her pocket and then buried it half way to the tilt into the wood.

"There. That's how."

...

She burst out laughing.

"See," she said. "People have this misconception that killing takes much skill. It doesn't. It really, really doesn't. A guy can train in martial arts for 20 years and he'll still get killed by the next idiot with a knife. No, you don't need to learn how to kill. Just attack them, preferably in obvious weak points, until they stop moving."

"Anything more specific?"
 
Ray wasn't too shocked. Somehow, drinking wine uninhibited him. And he drunk a quarter of a bottle while Lindsey, or Sybil, was watching and talking.
"That's not a cigarette! Cigarettes are much smaller, and wrapped in a white, thin paper. But es, now that you say it, I think that's smoked. Anyways, you just blew up my badass phrase. It was badass, don't deny it! I meant, you know, the whole difficult lot. Training, sneaking up, those things. I'm starting to be good with this stuff." He raised the bow, which he was still holding in the left hand, while holding a bottle on the right one. "But it will be useful to know this other stuff." He stumbled over and grabbed the knife." Surely there must be some way to better hold this or some bulls***. Surely! I've read a lot, and the protagonists always had to endure through rough trainings! Why shouldn't it be like that?!"
 
A Conversation with Myself Part Two

Joseph stared at his reflection. Looking deeply, helplessly into the window. He thought of the past few days. Jose knew Michael. He knew Michael. He thought about his brother.

"Whats are we doing today my friend?"
Schizo said it in a voice that sounded like Gollum.

"Go away you freak. Leave me alone." Amnesia was very sad at the thought of his brother, and was sadder at the fact that he forgot most of them.

"Whys you so mean? I justs askeds yous a question and yous be rude to me! Whys?"

"You have been drinking too much...haven't you Joe?"
Amnesia smiled, at least he had someone to talk to.

Schizo burped, and laughed.
"Maybeeee...you want some?"

"No, where did you get that?"

Schizo smiled, evilly.
"Where did I get this...only one way to explain my son"
He cleared his throat.
"The shapes and sizes are big and small,
Float on the sea and ocean do they all,
Full of stuff like knives and wine,
Ands I takes them to be mine,
Two are ons a boat right now,
Kills them and they tastes like cow!"
Schizo started laughing his head off.
"In a good way"

Amnesia giggled, and shook his head.
"You're sick you know that?"

Schizo laughed.
"You're my best friend Joe! You're the only one in this dump that can kill someone!"
He screamed it out loud, and echoed through the harbour.
He laughed and the two sipped on some wine.

OOC: What do you guys think of my songs/poems?
Are there dogs in Core?
 
Are there dogs in Core?


Yes, although nobody can afford to, and few attempt to, care for them.
Shall we just say that... other.. things are the norm for what were once our pets.

As to the poems, I like it, it's a nice touch for your character.
 
After some observation, I must say the following:
From here on out, updates will be done every weekend. I'll end up stating later on whether it'll be once or twice per weekend, but it just works better to do it on weekends (or my vacations :p ).

Expanding from there, I'll probably have the map up on Sunday, barring any issues (I'm planning on doing it on Saturday, and it will be hand-drawn). In the meantime, I'll probably work on expanding some backstory on the wiki, fixing the OP for the last update, and responding to any RP (which I may or not get to tonight, but will definitely aim for doing that before the update).
 
After some observation, I must say the following:
From here on out, updates will be done every weekend. I'll end up stating later on whether it'll be once or twice per weekend, but it just works better to do it on weekends (or my vacations :p ).

Expanding from there, I'll probably have the map up on Sunday, barring any issues (I'm planning on doing it on Saturday, and it will be hand-drawn). In the meantime, I'll probably work on expanding some backstory on the wiki, fixing the OP for the last update, and responding to any RP (which I may or not get to tonight, but will definitely aim for doing that before the update).

Speaking of RP, my latest update needs some RP help. ;)
 
Geoffrey woke up in a daze. his head swam and colors darted past his vision. He was in a chair in a dark, damp room, probably still underground. There was a simple wooden table in front of him with a solitray candle, casting sharp, dark shadows on the room. There was a man across from Geoffrey, his face obscured with shadows. He began to speak.
 
Vasiliy:

Vassiliev sat uncomfortably. Clearly, the meeting hadn't gone as expected.

"Mikaere? And Sergei? Why on Earth does he need my son and some club's owner?"

Anderson:

The tall man stepped forwards, and grinned.

"The Italians don't come out this far. Why are you really here?"

Jose:

The man with the limp hobbles over, and the fight breaks up. He grins.
"Now, who would you be, and why is everyone so interested in killing you?"
A small blade flicks out from his sleeve.
"Or should I just make them all happy?"

Nate:
A tunnel stretches away from Nate in two directions. The cream sounds again, from off to the left.

Geoffrey:

The man leans forwards. His voice sounds not only gruff, but very sick, as though he's congested.
"Tell me.. what are you doing down here? And do I need to kill you, or leave you somewhere you'll never see the surface again?"


Did I forget anyone?
 
Vasiliy mirrored the Don's discomfort. In fact, he amplified it on himself. If even Vassiliev didn't know what was going on... No. Just say the message.
"He... actually requested me to come, as well. As for why... I cannot say, sir. He only talked about power, and told me he would discuss with you what you wanted, as well as a topic of his own."
 
Silence.

Kyle drops me to the ground, and I gasp for air as he walked closer.

"Now now" came the voice of Silvester. The Man turned to see the boss of the Boy's Red Finger standing behind him, his slingshot... MY slingshot held at the ready to the side, "He's the guest of the Red Fingers"

"And who are you?" accused the man, now turning to Silvester.

"Simply the Boss here. You may address me as Silv" The tall boy made a quick gesture, and the man gasped, then repeated it.

"Ah. Come to my abode" said Silvester as he turned away. "You too, Jose."

Kyle shook his head and shouted, "No way! Jose is staying here! You Red Fingers are nothing but trouble!" and saying so, he grabbed me now in the back of my rags and pulled me away as I struggle to free myself from his grasp.
 
Vasiliy:
Vassiliev shifted uncomfortably, then nodded.
"We get Mikaere first. And nobody goes without one of these."
The don slides a pistol across the table at Vasiliy.
"And please tell me you actually know how to use one, it's not just point and click..."

Jose:
The older man walks over, and punches Kyle. Hard. The other boy goes down like a sack of potatoes.
"He'll have a headache later, but I didn't kill him. Yet. Now get a move on."
 
Vasiliy only stared down at the weapon in front of him. He was going to look like a fool in front of the Russian Don... But he had never even held a gun in his life. All he knew of them was from the echoing gunshots that sometimes rang through the flimsy walls of the slumtown. But... to hold one, to use one? To possibly use it on someone? It was almost unthinkable.

He hesitated, leaving the gun on the table. Then he spoke up, quietly, "I've never used a gun in my life, sir. I don't know how to use one."
 
Nate runs down the passage. The scream had come from further up. A left turn, then right. It's almost as if Nate had been here before. Right again. Nate steps back a little.

In front of him is a girl, and she's bleeding.
_______________

OOC: Over to you CivO. ;)
 
The man leans forwards. His voice sounds not only gruff, but very sick, as though he's congested.
"Tell me.. what are you doing down here? And do I need to kill you, or leave you somewhere you'll never see the surface again?"

Geoffrey looked at the man. He sounded congested Maybe I can overpower him if it comes to it. "I'm down here looking for a girl named Julia, I'm a private investigator and it was just the case I picked up. I don't want any trouble and I'd like to live so I can find the answers I'm searching for"
 
After resting for a bit, I grab my rifle and head over to Geoff's office. Seeing no one and with my notebook still laying where it was, I decide to go investigate by myself. I get to the orphanage and slowly open the door...
 
"Training? I can do that too. But honestly? You are better off fine-tuning everything by yourself, though I could still teach you a few tricks I guess."

She yawned. "Not tonight though. You look drunk. We'll do it as soon as you get up tomorrow."
 
After resting for a bit, I grab my rifle and head over to Geoff's office. Seeing no one and with my notebook still laying where it was, I decide to go investigate by myself. I get to the orphanage and slowly open the door...

Just as we're about to enter the Tower, with Jakab holding my sack of traps for me, the door of the orphanage opened once more... The limping man shoved us down and pulled out his knife, his eyes darting towards the barracaded door.
 
"Sure!" Ray raised his arms up and the little wine that was left in the bottle was poured onto his arm and the floor, and the bottle itself was sent flying behind Ray, where it hit the wall and crashed in a thousand tiny bits. "Woah, what a mess, you're right, Lin-" Ray's mind vanished for a second, and he could barely stand. He stumbled to tha trapdoor on the wall and vomited. "I'm too... ill. Gimme that box and I'll get home by myself, don't... worry." Ray vomited again and nearly fainted over his vomit.
 
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