O R I E N `and C o.
If you are in need of legal counsel or a private investigator well versed in the supernatural world to poke their nose into your business, contact Shayla Orien for assistance.
In either case, send Shin~The ladle monster! a pm if you would like her involvement in your plot.
C L ii E N T S S E R V E D
The Orien & Co. Firm is a small, newly created business run by a young woman by the name of Shayla Orien. Nobody knows who she is, or where the business cropped up from. But one night her small firm crept quietly into the supernatural scene to try and make its beginning. It claims to exist to handle cases and provide legal or monetary aide and even counseling for supernatural beings. They exist as a bridge between the regular human law system, and the supernatural underworld. They also assist those who have endangered their own lives/well-being through the exposure or misuse of their abilities to the general public. However their main source of income is currently the private investigation service that they run on the side, to keep themselves afloat.
Located across the dingy street, a single larger establishment sits. A swinging sign above the door proclaims it to be called the 'Akushin Tavern.' It has large bay windows, flickering with glowing orange light and spilling soft jazz into the dirty street. Despite it's homey appearance though, this long-standing establishment has a reputation for attracting unsavoury sorts late at night. However, as it is open 24x7, it also attracts the odd weary business-person or lost tourist during the day and early evening.
○ Follow Gaia’s ToS.
○ No cybering. Romance is certainly allowed but use some decent judgement, okay?
○ Respect your fellow roleplayers. If things get out of hand OOC, I will mediate.
○ No killing other characters without permission and forethought!
○ Literacy. You don't have to be a novelist, but I want to see effort. That means no one-liners, but try to keep pointless filler to a minimum. I want quality over quantity!
○ OOC. I don't mind it in the thread, but I don't want it to dominate either. If you can be around to post OOC, you can at least do a bit of IC as well.
○ More will be added as needed
The firm resides in respectable little building nestled between two equally small, less respectable buildings. The area where corporate downtown Durem gradually gives way to the dirtier, industrial warehouse district is not a nice place. But then again, this particular business didn’t generally cater to nice people. The building is not large – in fact, it is quite narrow. The front is bland and whitewashed, with only a single black-on-white sign over the door proclaiming the name of the business, and only that they provide ‘Specialty Counsel and Private Investigations.’ The door is thin and dark, standing out starkly like a piano key against the flat white exterior. A single long pane of distorted glass along the left side of the door allows a skewed view of a small room with a reception desk, a potted plant, two chairs and a narrow hallway leading further back. Upon entering the building, you find that the desk is sparse and neat. It is unmanned, but a simple bell sits on the counter. The hallway is long and white with three plain black doors. One door has a plaque reading ‘Shayla Orien’, and the other reads ‘Accalia CALE Harshal’. The third is left piteously blank.
[ The A k u s h ii n T a v e r n]
Smooth, quiet jazz music permeates the establishment to create a relaxing and peaceful environment, although the surrounding neighbourhood is anything but. The inside is all done in faded burgundy with ebony wood paneling to compliment it. Across from the door is the bar, obviously worn but well-cared for, the stained oak surface gleaming with a fresh layer of varnish. To the left sit a few round tables with chairs grouped around them. A soft, dark purple carpet covers the floor in this area.
To the right of the bar, the floor is polished hardwood, giving way to stones cobbled together to create a hearth in front of the fireplace. There are two big armchairs and a loveseat grouped around a low coffee table in front of the fire. The upholstery is all mismatched; one chair is faded brown, one purple, and the loveseat is dark green.
In one corner of the room are two sets of stairs, one leading up and the other leading downward. Upstairs there is merely a hallway with a few simple rooms along each side. The basement is unfinished with concrete floors and heavy doors. There is a single marked bathroom and a large locked door presumably leading to a pantry and other storage.
Back on the main floor, behind the bar, a single black metal door leads to another room with a sign affixed to it reading "Authorized Personnel Only."
04/07/11 The thread is under construction!
This section will eventually house important announcements, milestones, employees and whatnot.
04/07/11 The Orien and Co. Law Firm has applied to be a part of the Gaia Mainstream.
07/07/11 The Orien and Co. Law Firm is open for business! Posting is now Open!
1.Shayla Orien - Proprietor of Orien & Co., Legal Aid and CouselShin~The ladle monster! 2.Cale Harshal - Head of security, private investigations, hands-on assistance, hired muscle, temporary secretaryCurrently Unavailable for Plot ReasonsShin~The ladle monster!
1.Shin Misaki - Vampire, occaional spy or assassin for hire. Secret Owner and Operator of the Akushin Tavern, which is her home.Shin~The ladle monster! 2.Margaret Cooper - Apparent Owner and Operator of the Akushin TavernShin~The ladle monster! 3.Dorian Misaki - Apparently only there to work when Margaret needs sleep or is out on business.Shin~The ladle monster!
The aim of the Gaia Mainstream is to take the little, private world that each thread may have, and expand it so that threads can share the same world, allowing the roleplayers to be a part of a greater whole and broaden their possibilities. If there were two bar threads located in Durem that were a part of the Mainstream, a character could, literally, walk down the street to the next bar, and continue roleplaying in that thread. This is only a minor example, but it is meant to lend to the notion that an interconnected world allows for a shared continuity that can broaden the scope of of a roleplayer's choices and potential storytelling.
The office was, of course, empty. Well, empty of everyone except for the two lonesome workers with nothing to do. The front desk stood empty and waiting, the little bell looking forlorn as if it hasn't been rung before. The only sign that there might be people within was the fact that the front door was propped open with a small waste basket to get a breeze blowing through the warm building.
The door to Shayla's office was firmly shut. However, the one reading 'Cale Harshal' was standing open at the end of the hall. The woman inside did not look very busy. She was tall and lean, with slightly messy, short amber- hair. Her long legs were crossed at the ankle and her stocking feet propped up on her desk. It was far messier than the reception desk - this one had papers strewn about, a mug full of assorted pens and pencils, and a tiny radio perched in one corner. The radio was playing tinny, soft rock and Cale snored lightly along with it.
It was quite obvious that the small firm hadn't had much business at all, if any.
The door to Shayla's office opened to reveal the ambitious young lawyer hersef standing there. She looked prin and proper, wearing a fashionable purple blazer and pencil skirt, the black tank top beneath the blazer cut quite low to make the most of her well-rounded 'assets'.
Thin, angular frames were perched on the bridge of her delicately sculpted nose. Black bangs framed her pale face and the rest of her choppy raven hair was pulled back in an attractive messy bun at the nape of her neck. She was definitely dressed in sexy-business chic, and it was a look well suited to her.
Her expression was somewhat grumpy, however, as she stifled a yawn and briskly marched over to her lazy co-worker's office and snapped the door shut, muttering to herself.
"Huh, lazy... I bet she's been sleeping in there all day. That's my job."
Then she looked around the small office and heaved a sigh.
"Who am I kidding?" She sat down with a thump at the unoccupied reception desk and looked at it's neat stacks of paper, the sleeping computer monitor. "I'm sure there was nothing productive for her to be doing anyway."
Her eyes wandered to the door - still propped open even at this late hour, thanks to her careless colleague - and across the street to the tavern beyond. Light and soft music spilled from it's windows invitingly, making her small business seem all the more lonesome.
Drake darted through the streets with the cops on his a**.. His kawasaki Ninja would only go so fast! Growling to himself, for his stupid mistake, behind the helmet he wore, he bared his canines in anger. While hunkering down to gain speed and make a sharp right, the man caught scent of a tavern. This far from the busy streets? Interesting.. But a needed hide away. Revving his bike, the man threw himself forward before coming to a skidding, screeching stop infront of the jazzy tavern. Being at least smart enough to hide SOMETHING, the man hopped off his bike, bent over and pushed it to hide it behind a larger SUV already parked. What the hell had happened? He pulled off his helmet and walked to the door, opening it with a slight flourish as he proudly took the first steps in... Only to hear the cops whiz by the building, sirens blaring.
A fluffy black tail uncurled from around his waist to stand at attention as the man quickly took the giant steps to the bar, large tanned hand scrubbing down his face in frustration as he sat on a stool. Good lord, it wasn't like he MEANT to shift infront of city hall! Why would anyone want to SHIFT infront of CITY HALL?! Dressed in a black leather coat and some ripped up jeans, with matching leather biker boots, the tall man at 6 foot 7 inches sighed as he looked around for the bartender.
"Lord save me if booze doesn't come my way soon.."
Post format made by Viice [L]ocation: Orien & Co. [M]ood: Aggressive // [S]tatus: Unharmed // [O]utfit:Full [C]urrent Music: Atmosphere - Trying To Find A Balance --- Doesn't mean you have to pick them back up.◄◄◄◄
Margaret looked up from the counter as a very agitated customer stomped into the tavern. She was a tall young woman, slender and looking a little bit overdressed for a barkeep, in pinstripes and a fedora. She had shoulder length hair, platinum blonde, and piercing blue eyes.
"Comin' right up, stranger." She raised a brow and gave the man an easy grin as he sat down, sliding a frothing glass of the house brew down the counter his way. "You in some kind of trouble?"
She jerked her head toward the door, motioning in the direction of the still-audible police sirens.
"Seems like you caused quite a fuss, whatever it was you did."
Her gaze fell to the fluffy tail and followed its movement for a moment. She didn't mention it though, apparently used to seeing all sorts of beings aside from humans like herself.
[ I apologize for taking so long! I got caught up with housework... ^^;
Also, I'm so glad to hear that this thread is being received well! I'd be happy to get involved with Sigil, it seems amazing. ]
Perch was in a strange mood. His usual dreary apathy surly overpowered every other emotion on his face, but within his mind he could sense a certain disconnect; his theory was that he'd reached a new level of emotional ambiguity. As he strolled down the street a man on a motorcycle loudly, Perch noted, flew past him, shortly followed by a pack of wild police cruisers. Perch wondered what the poor b*****d had done. It was interesting to him. That chase was part of this gentleman's day. He'd gotten in trouble, the police intervened and this man made the decision to get on his bike and fly off. Like always, Perch thought about his thoughts. "Why did I think that? Do other people think that? Probably."
Much to Perch's desire, the man gave the police the slip and darted into a nearby tavern. It was a tavern Perch had noticed before only because he'd passed it so many times without noticing it. Even more interesting was the tail that unraveled from the man's waist. It certainly wasn't the strangest thing Perch had ever seen; just the other night a man with three eyes propositioned Perch's mother to remove her top; "Go on, Annabell. Don't disappoint the man. Maybe with that third eye he can spot a piece of you the rest of the world hasn't had the pleasure of seeing."
Curious, Perch walked in, clad in his usual attire: Hawaiian shirt, wrapped knuckles, no shoes and a pair of ripped jeans that could never seem to find the washing machine.