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      XMIND STRONG BODY STRONG TRY TO FIND EQUILIBRIUM
          LET’ S xxx WALK xxxTHROUG H xxx THE xxx F I RE xxx
          TOGETHER

    doctorrobertellison


          XXHmm. Perhaps he should have announced himself sooner. Rather, he should have made some viable attempt to not startle the poor, bewildered man standing adjacent to him now. Still, Robert smiled in a vague attempt to ease the frown from the military man’s face, nodding his head. Yes, a drink. Alcohol wasn’t his penchant, but even he could appreciate a fine glass of wine every once in a while, and tonight happened to be one of those nights where he wanted a good, jovial drink with someone before the real world with its own breed of horrors re-emerged to take over his life. Medicine was a complex and oftentimes a rather gruesome field, but he was renowned and revered among some of his inferior colleagues, so Robert remained.

          To be honest, Robert thought the man would refuse the drink; he certainly looked like it in the way he frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but to his surprise, the uniformed figure took him up on his haphazard offer. Grinning freely, Robert nodded and prepared to dart off, only to pause in order to listen to the man introduce himself as Lieutenant Colonel Jasper Williams. My, what a distinguished character! Reaching out to grasp Mr. William’s hand in a quick, ferverish handshake, the doctor replied in a rush, ”I’m Robert Ellison. A pleasure to meet you, Sir.” He fretted silently over whether or not that was the appropriate way to address men of rank, but by the time he lowered his hand to break the fleeting contact between them, it was too late to alter his statement. ”Right, that drink. I’ll return shortly, then.” Smiling apologetically, Robert turned around and faded through the crowd, walking toward the bar so he could successfully acquire two drinks; one for himself, and one for the Lieutenant Colonel, who still looked as uncomfortable as a mouse perched between two sleeping cats. Without tarrying, he returned to the man’s side and offered him one of the drinks. ”There you are,” he said in passing, awkward sort of smile still plastered on his face as he tried to make amicable conversation with someone he barely knew. Twas not his forte, that much was for certain. ”You don’t look to be enjoying this overly much. I mean, not that you look uncomfortable. Just a little tense, I’d say,” he babbled, his eyes darting between Mister Williams and the ladies chattering over to his left. They made small talk look so simple! Robert envied their innate ability to prattle on like songbirds while he fumbled even for an innocent dialogue with someone.
Miss Swifteh's avatar

Versatile Lunatic

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                                        x x xA dog with disease
                                        x x x xYou’re the king of the sleaze
                                        x x-PUT YOUR MONEY WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS MISTER KNOW-IT-ALL
                                        x x x x x xWas the fin on your back part of the deal, SHARK
                                        x x x x xInsane!Should be put inside
                                        x x x xYou’re a sewer-rat decaying in a cesspool of pride
                                        x x xShould be made unemployed, make yourself null and void
                                        x x x x x xMAKE ME FEEL GOOD


                                  x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xY A O x J I A N Y Ix x x x x x
                                  Accompanying Greer 
                                  Located Sir Rupert's Estate 
                                  Busying himself with Most definitely not flirting. Honest.  


                                  He wouldn't have made his rather perverse suggestion for entertainment if he hadn't thought the Scotsman would oblige him; sure enough he got the answer he desired. Jianyi chuckled discreetly behind his fan - it would be interesting to find out if the Duke was as charming as he professed. Perhaps Mrs Crawley would find him too abrasive? But then a pretty face is fine company regardless of the conversation, he mused.
                                  His own pretty face twitched at the mentioning of a favour. He'd forgotten, for a moment, that the young Duke was a Magus just like himself. Whilst the secret group was filled with many individuals that differed wildly from each other, they had a tendency to be...cunning. At least, if they were anything like the Chinaman then they were. He braced himself for whatever pitiful 'favour' the Duke was about to ask of him, his gaze a little cold as he cast his eyes on the Scotsman.
                                  However, upon hearing Greer's request he couldn't help but smile, a warmth returning to his expression. It was a cunning favour, this was true, but it was the best kind of cunning. To think he had been worried about owing money, actions or worse, information! The Scotman only wanted to weasle a kiss out of his companion, that was all.

                                  However, despite the low price for his entertainment, it was arguably the most risque of all that Jianyi had considered. One had to be especially careful in recent times, when one dallies with another man. Simply walking arm-in-arm through the park, such as officers do, could lead to false accusations - although in Jianyi's case, any accusations were probably never made on false grounds. He kept his private life quiet and his business hidden, but it was important to know that he had no qualms dealing with either gender.
                                  But still...it paid to be discreet, especially in a room full of people.

                                  " Oh my...we can't have the noble Duke sleeping in a cold bed, can we? " He teased, his tone lightly patronising. The fan snapped closed and he folded his arms, head tilted slightly to the side.
                                  " We shall see. Whether I will comply or not depends entirely on your performance. "


                                  Death on two legsx x
                                  You’re tearing me apartx x
WarriorofManlySpirit's avatar

Dapper Raider

The Duke Montgomery
The charming Scotsman is currently: Putting on his best show to get a kiss from a pretty man.

"My boy builds coffins for the rich and the poor,
Kings and queens them all knocked on
his door."
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He allowed his gaze to roam over the Chinaman as he waited for his answer. It would be a loss if he didn’t oblige, that’s for sure. He quirked an eyebrow and his grin turned c**k-eyed as he thought of the implications of such a seemingly harmless action.

One; You really shouldn’t be seen in public with another male, no matter how eccentric you were. Sure, the Duke did not care one way or another about knowledge of his lovers, past and present, but that didn’t mean you should go flaunting it on the streets.

Two; If the other Magi saw, well, that would be the most interesting thing to happen tonight. The assumptions, the assumptions. Assuming was the danger of every man, the arrow to the knee of sorts. Perhaps they would become paranoid that two Magi were aligning themselves with one another, or they would think the two Magi involved were plotting against each other.

Regardless, a nice kiss from a pretty man would be welcomed, things had been awfully dull under his kilt the past week.

Greer broke into a grin at the Chinaman’s reply.

”Ye don’ have te worry ‘boot me there bonnie, ye’ll be kissing more’n my cheek if ye basin’ it on performances.” He cocked his head to the side, getting his first real view of Jianyi’s face. He whistled loudly, ” ‘Ere I’ve een callin’ ye ‘bonnie’ when not really knowin’ what a bonnie really is, aye. Yer more’n a bonnie, but I’m goin’ta have ta keep callin’ ye that. Ol’ Greery don’ know the English word fer more’n a bonnie.”

He turned on his heel at that and waltzed on over to Mrs. Crawley stood, still looking around nervously as she declined an offer of wine from a serving boy. Greer, of course, took little time to announced his presence.

“Aye, ye don’ want that stuff there lass, ol’ Greery will hook ye up, aye.” He lifted the wine bottle, spinning the cups in his hand before pouring two glasses and handing one to the woman with a flourishing bow. While still bowing, he looked up and flashed her a winning smile. ”The ol’ Duke o the Montgomery, at yer service my dear lass.”

Mrs. Crawley, as planned, stared wide eyed at the Scotsman before taking the cup from him and placing a gloved hand over her chest, ”O-oh my, Duke, what a show, and may I say it is quite a pleasure to be in your company.” A few seconds after she took the cup Greer held her hand and planted a kiss on it before standing up straight, the woman was visibly distraught in the best kind of way.

”Ye look lovely tonight, my lady o’ Crawley- No need ta look surprised there, o’ course the Duke ‘o Montgomery knows the names of all the pretty lasses in England, maybe the world, aye.”





"Beggars and liars, gypsies and thieves,
They all come to him 'cause he's so
eager to please."
Miss Swifteh's avatar

Versatile Lunatic

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EGADS, IT'S A TIME SKIP.

See the first page for details of date, time, weather and current events.

" It has been barely a fortnight since the hugely successful parties in Mid March but it seems that disaster has struck.
Firstly, the prolific but exclusive publisher Phillip Rothman was discovered mangled within the inner workings of his own machine. Whilst the papers assume accident, many of the Magus are taking a skeptical view - they suspect each other of foul play. Secondly, an assassination attempt was made against Lucia LeCu'yer. Luckily for the Frenchman the assailant was unsuccessful in his duty, but the incident has put many on high alert.
Meanwhile, the young Welshman Llewelyn Davis has been causing quite a stir within the Magus. He has spoken about the need for a peaceful future, one that differs from the war and conflict lingering on the horizon. He believes no good will come of a war spanning Europe - as do his followers. There are only four at the moment, but there is a worry that other Magus will support his views. Davis has already expressed the need to 'remove the poison within the Magus', but what exactly could he mean? "
WarriorofManlySpirit's avatar

Dapper Raider

The Duke Montgomery
The charming Scotsman is currently: Being super inconspicuous.

"My boy builds coffins for the rich and the poor,
Kings and queens them all knocked on
his door."
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The Duke, even when dressed in clothes from England’s finest tailors, stood out like a sore thumb along when out of his estate. Head to toe, he wore white. His pants were hemmed beautifully , sitting above his white buckled shoes. A dapper vest over a crisp white button up shirt, finished off with a long white overcoat and a freshly ironed cravat. All of it matched his flashing bright smile…And the white horse he was riding along the streets.

In the pouring rain.

At this point, if anyone denied the fact that the Scotsman was an eccentric, they should be sent off to the asylum. However, the Duke had a very good reason to draw attention to himself on this dreary night. A fellow Magus had been found, brutally murdered. Of course, he had found out two ways; one, through the meeting with other Dukes, it had been the talk of the town. And two; of course Valentinus had been informed. He had also been informed of the threat towards another Magus, ’Aye, they be targeting all the prettiest ones. There’ll be nobody left to kiss ol’ Greery.’

His gloved hand held a card, now soaked by the rain, and his eyebrow was raised in an arch as he gave it another once over. He hadn’t gotten his kiss, but perhaps he had gotten the key to many, many kisses, from many many women. But alas, it didn’t help him forget the fact that he hadn’t gotten his kiss from one very sly Chinaman. And Greer didn’t let promises lie like that, no sir.

Unfortunately, those events hadn’t been the most disturbing events of the day. Another Magus had begun spouting nonsense about ‘purging poison’ or some other kind of metaphor that hurt the Duke’s head. He sighed heavily as he heard the chatter coming out of a passing carriage. He hated the cobble streets, the being stopped by enforcers of the law if you began to run.

Did he care? Not really.

He dug his heels into the horse’s sides and let out a whoop as he began to speed along the streets of England.





"Beggars and liars, gypsies and thieves,
They all come to him 'cause he's so
eager to please."
Furry to the Core's avatar

Shirtless Werewolf

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User Image"Fate can be reduced to mathematics,
Human behavior determined by past experiences,
But there is one factor that is impossible to factor in."


xxxxxxxxxx<=>Sherlock stepped through rain, shoes sending out waves of water. He ignored the bone penetrating chill, making his way through the mostly empty streets, overrun with puddles and rivulets. A thick gray overcoat was being worn at the moment, wet from the weather, but it warded most of it, and the cold, away. His hat was a bit odd, the brim extending back and downwards in the rear, while sloping upwards in the front. Sherlock had designed it so that the water ran down and off the back, and while he wasn't going to be winning any fashion contests, it kept his head dry. The events of the last two weeks had been... troubling. One dead, one almost dead, and five forming a cult. Most troubling. Though, at least it was interesting. He'd hate to be bored so early after being back in London.

xxxxxxxxxx<=>Sherlock was stopped before entering a building by a bobby. If his own hat didn't look the best, the thimble shaped hats the police wore looked absolutely ridiculous, though he didn't mention that. ”I'm sorry sir, but this is a crime scene. I'm going to have to ask you to leave.” Well, at least the man was polite about it. Sherlock carefully reached into his coat, pulling out a folded piece of paper and handing it to the officer. ”My name is Sherlock Holmes. I'm working with Inspector Lestrade on this case. I need to see where he died.” The man opened the paper, glancing down to read it while making sure Sherlock didn't try anything funny. After he finished, he handed the letter back to Sherlock. ”You may enter Mr. Holmes.” Sherlock slipped the letter back into his coat. ”Thank you.”

xxxxxxxxxx<=>He stepped into the house, eyes darting everywhere, taking in details. He hung his coat and hat up on a coat rack. His clothes underneath were mostly dry, a plain shirt and trousers. He tapped the tips of his shoes on the floor to get rid of some of the water from his shoes, but his shoes still left wet smears on the floor as he walked across it. He made sure that he wasn't stepping on anything important though. There were several printing presses in the place of business, but the one he was concerned with was stained with blood. The body had already been moved, the blood coagulated. He scanned the area, committing it to memory, observed from every angle. He worked his way outward from there, walking around.

(Bleeeeeh, short, buuut it's there
Crrrap, editted instead of quoted XD)

"Love.
Screwed with it.
Screwed without it."
Miss Swifteh's avatar

Versatile Lunatic

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                                        x x xA dog with disease
                                        x x x xYou’re the king of the sleaze
                                        x x-PUT YOUR MONEY WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS MISTER KNOW-IT-ALL
                                        x x x x x xWas the fin on your back part of the deal, SHARK
                                        x x x x xInsane!Should be put inside
                                        x x x xYou’re a sewer-rat decaying in a cesspool of pride
                                        x x xShould be made unemployed, make yourself null and void
                                        x x x x x xMAKE ME FEEL GOOD


                                  x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xY A O x J I A N Y Ix x x x x x
                                  Accompanying Sherlock 
                                  Located Rothman's Presses 
                                  Busying himself with being a busybody  


                                  Jianyi stood by the window in his drawing room, illuminated only by a single candle on top of the fireplace. The scene outside was grim; late-night passers by hurried down the street to escape the rain; the streetlamps seemed almost to have a halo as their light reflected on fallen raindrops. From time to time a carriage trotted by, splashing puddles of murky water onto the pavement. His mind wandered as he watched this familiar London scene, turning to the recent incidents regarding his brethren.
                                  Firstly, there was the murder - or should he call it an 'accident'? That anyone should accept this death at face value was a laughable concept, for it was clear that there was some element of foul play involved. Unfortunately, the peelers would probably find nothing conclusive. They weren't always thorough about their work.
                                  Then there was poor Lucia. The sheer fact that another of their brethren had clearly had an assassination against him was suggestion enough that the other was murdered. Of course, that wasn't the sort of thing that you mentioned to the police: 'I'm part of a secret organisation and I was almost killed by an assassin, so could you consider this case a murder?'

                                  Jianyi sighed, his usually smiling lips pulled into a thin frown. How does the saying go? 'If you want something done properly, you must do it yourself'?

                                  He left the drawing room and headed upstairs - within moments of arriving on the landing, a figure dressed in red shadowed his movements. He was a young man (younger than Jianyi, at least) and short like many of his countrymen, as well as thin. He had the look of a clerk about him, and to some extent that was correct; Jianyi employed the man as his secretary of sorts, as well as a butler for the house. However, like many of the Chinese 'staff' that cleaned and cared for the Chinaman's home, he lived a double-life as manager of the basement gentlemen's club. Still, this only showed how much Jianyi trusted the man to take care of his business. He was efficient and clever with a knack for numbers, as well as an uncanny ability to figure out where his employer is at any given time.
                                  As Jianyi moved into his bedroom and took a seat on a comfortable chair, a little girl shuffled past the red-clothed man and fumbled with a stick of incense in the corner. She was perhaps no more than five or six and dressed in light blue and white. Despite her tiny hands she lit a match and set the incense down, stepping away and looking to Jianyi with hopeful eyes. He smiled at her, nodding his head in praise.
                                  " Thankyou Meilin. " He spoke softly in his mothertongue and the little girl's face lit up. She shuffled out of the room again, lingering by the door to watch the two grown men. Her presence in the house had a good explanation behind it...perhaps best told at another time. For now, Jianyi settled back in his seat and exhaled deeply, the red-dressed man loitering at his shoulder.
                                  " How long? " He asked. Jianyi closed his eyes, calming himself.
                                  " A while. " The exchange was brief but the man nodded, ushering Meilin away as he closed the door and left Jianyi alone in the room.

                                  He cleared his mind. The incense smoke rose at an alarming rate, creating vague images of people and scenery as Jianyi's inner eye crept through the streets of London. He sank into his seat as his body grew limp, heartbeat slowing to such a speed that any physician could be excused for thinking he was dead. His body was empty, vacant...but his mind was free to roam.

                                  He entered the factory where the late Rothman had met his untimely end - or rather, where his corpse had been found. His vision blurred as he took in the entrance, the exits, the presses and the floorplan, his inner eye flickering between views and perspectives. Yet it was inconclusive...he would deem nothing from this. He focused more, trying to gain clarity as he sharpened his mind. Flickering images became steadier, more recognisable--
                                  A figure entered his view; he instantly recognised him as Sherlock. Jianyi wondered, for a moment, if he should back off. But then again, Sherlock had an exceptional mind and might be able to provide more of an insight into this untimely death. He was no fool...Sherlock had to be present because he too could sense that Rothman's death was no accident.
                                  It took him a few moments to organise his thoughts, but Jianyi began to materialise at the edge of the room, his ethereal image an exact replical of his corporeal one. There was nothing transparent or ghostly about him - it were as though he were in the room. Jianyi made his way slowly towards Sherlock, approaching him from the side but keeping his distance. His feet made no sound on the ground, but his voice could be heard quite clearly.
                                  " Any theories, Mr Detective? " He asked, smiling politely.


                                  Death on two legsx x
                                  You’re tearing me apartx x
WarriorofManlySpirit's avatar

Dapper Raider

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Kristoff Brecken
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voca me immortalem



Red eyes wide in glee as he approached his destination. The rain provided the perfect atmosphere for him. He stood still for a moment, taking in the outside of the building. The scene of the crime. He inhaled, hoping for the scent of blood, but there was none, yet. Yes, oh not yet. He was giddy at this point, sopping pale hair clinging to the pale skin it almost blended with. The tall, thin man walked into the factory that the other Magus had been found with a skip in his step.

His long black coat flailed out behind him as he walked briskly, shoes clacking on the floor. He hardly involved himself in the affairs of his fellow Magi, and why should he? He had his own agendas, but the recent attempted assassination and murder gave him reason to be involved. Oh, so, so many reasons.

First, this was his turf, technically. And a murder had occurred here. Sure, his jurisdiction didn’t extend to above ground affairs, but it had been more than n excuse for him to leave the bar for a few hours, or more, if things got interesting.

As he drew closer he could almost smell the scene, his quick pace turned into almost a run as he brushed past the protesting detectives, turning to flash a counterfeit detective emblem and a sadistic grin. What kind of underworld boss didn’t own a counterfeit emblem or two? His grin receded into a smirk as he entered the room to see the two men. He nodded his face forward and cocked his head to the side, a raspy voice speaking,

”What a pleasant surprise! How long has it been gentlemen? Not long enough I fear.”




Vbi expectabo diem agonis ad oculos et late nomine clamitat
Furry to the Core's avatar

Shirtless Werewolf

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User Image"Fate can be reduced to mathematics,
Human behavior determined by past experiences,
But there is one factor that is impossible to factor in."


xxxxxxxxxx<=>Sherlock's eyes snapped over to the source of the voice, straightening up. He immediately recognized the other as one of the other Magi members that had attended the party with him a couple of weeks ago. Jianyi, the Chinese businessman, with hands in several rather illegal pots. He'd been very thorough in his investigation of what went on in his home country. They were supposed to be concerned about the world, and global events, but, Sherlock had to admit he had an attachment to his land of birth. Wasn't that hard to figure out where drugs came from. Work the dealers, make sure their selling stock was empty, and see when he'd be most willing to sell his personal stash. They'd only sell it if they knew they'd be getting more soon. Then it was easy to track back to see which ships brought them in, and what do you know, Jianyi's name appeared, hidden behind several false fronts. Very clever, actually. It would be extraordinarily difficult to find conclusive proof to tie the man to the drugs. Sherlock could probably do it, but he doubted anyone else could. If anyone else could though... Jianyi could make sure that they wouldn't be found again.

Now though, it didn't seem like the other was planning anything. Sherlock hadn't heard him until he'd spoken, which was rather odd. ”How did you-?” He paused, mind working, eyes traveling up and down the other. He'd been about to ask how the other had gotten past the man stationed outside. But, now he had an idea, and eventually he would have a theory. ”None yet. You don't start formulating theories until you've compiled all of the evidence.” He said simply. One couldn't put the puzzle together if you didn't have all the pieces. Sometimes you'd have to stick pieces together to find others, but there were separate pieces he could still find. There were the sounds of clacking shoes against the floor, distracting him from Jianyi. A white-haired man came into view, revealing himself as Kristoff. Great, another Magi. Hopefully he could get rid of them so he wouldn't have to babysit the Magi while he was trying to find the killer. Much less with someone as far on the other side of the law as Kristoff was from him. Well, he'd manage for now, not like he had a choice.

Sherlock gave a small huff. ”Hardly a surprise. Dead Magus, bound to attract a few more. Well, how about you two talk, and try not to disturb anything.” He wanted to get the evidence before someone disturbed it. He twitched his damp shirt away from his body, moving away from the two. He didn't care if the two followed him. Hopefully, the two would be too busy eyeing each other to try stabbing him in the back. He wouldn't put it past Kristoff to do so. He knew the guy, not as a Magus. Kristoff had run the underground fighting ring. Sherlock had participated in the ring a few times. Curiosity, and to test himself. They had been surprisingly droll. He'd won them all, though he'd walked away with plenty of bruises. Hardly difficult, just... tedious. Anyway, this factory was a rather basic model that the construction company made, and, here it was. He held onto the handrails as he headed up the wooden stairs. These buildings had an observation room built into the roof. Was a type of office, and some actually lived there. He opened the door, stepping into the room. Seemed like Rothman had used it for a little of both. Filing cabinets, tables, safe. Small portable oven with some dishes, box of cigars, cigar end cutter, and a small ashtray with some ashes and ends in it. There were plenty of pictures around as well, the black and white photos showing many different people. He picked up a couple of the photographs, nudging a couple dirty plates, picking up the ashtray. Interesting. Very interesting.

"Love.
Screwed with it.
Screwed without it."
Miss Swifteh's avatar

Versatile Lunatic

User Image

                                        x x xA dog with disease
                                        x x x xYou’re the king of the sleaze
                                        x x-PUT YOUR MONEY WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS MISTER KNOW-IT-ALL
                                        x x x x x xWas the fin on your back part of the deal, SHARK
                                        x x x x xInsane!Should be put inside
                                        x x x xYou’re a sewer-rat decaying in a cesspool of pride
                                        x x xShould be made unemployed, make yourself null and void
                                        x x x x x xMAKE ME FEEL GOOD


                                  x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xY A O x J I A N Y Ix x x x x x
                                  Accompanying Sherlock and Kristoff 
                                  Located Rothman's Presses 
                                  Busying himself with being a busybody  


                                  He chuckled at Sherlock's stunted reaction to his unexpected appearance; the severe look the other gave him was priceless. No sooner had Jianyi made his presence known did another face grace the scene - this one belonging to the Crimelord Kristoff. The Chinaman tilted his head as the other approached, dark eyes travelling slowly up and down the man's figure as a boxer would size up his opponent. It did one well to know one's rivals, but in truth he knew very little about the blonde.
                                  The Magus society emcompassed a great number of men. Some were harmless, such as Lucia or his 'friend' Robert - they could do no more harm than a fly. Others, however, demanded more careful attention.
                                  His gaze sharpened and he forced a smile in greeting. Mister Kristoff is definitely someone who falls under the latter category...

                                  " I don't know about that, Kristoff...personally I savour our moments together. " He replied, tucking his hands into his sleeves and folding his arms across his chest. He followed Sherlock as the genius made to explore the surroundings, but he kept his distance. Side-glancing at Kristoff, he spoke again.
                                  " How is business, Sir? " He asked innocently, though he did not specify which 'business' he referred to. It mattered not - he was simply making conversation.


                                  Death on two legsx x
                                  You’re tearing me apartx x
WarriorofManlySpirit's avatar

Dapper Raider

✖☠✖☠✖☠✖☠✖☠✖☠✖☠✖☠✖☠
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Kristoff Brecken
✖☠✖☠✖☠✖☠✖☠✖☠✖☠✖☠✖☠

voca me immortalem



As soon as Sherlock turned around, Kristoff grinned, slipping his soaked coat off as he began to walked himself around the scene, letting his coat drop wherever it landed and setting himself on top of one ofthe machines. He cocked his head as Jianyi, giggling to himself all the while.

”Oh my dear ‘Locky, we’ve sorely missed you in the underground. My men have been aching to break that pretty face of yours.” He pursed his lips and stretched out, kicking off his boots. ”And my beloved Jianyi. However did you get here without getting soaked, I for one, am soaked to the skin, but as usual, not a single hair out of place. Though business has been fantastic, not that you wouldn't know. You know everything He pulled his feet up onto his lap, taking his socks off and tossing them over his shoulder. Clearly, this man was used to doing whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

He hopped off of the machine to stand, barefoot, near Sherlock. He clearly had no qualms about messing up any kind of crime scene, as he kicked a broken lamp cover away from him.

He was practically quivering in excitement at the blood covering the machine. This was what he wanted, chao, discord. The assassination attempts could not have made for a more perfect cover. He looked back at Jianyi, not just looking over his shoulder, leaning hi head back and flashing a wide, thin, grin.

”My Jianyi, I hear you were with my favorite little Duke at the party. Tell me, how is the boy? Healthy and happy I hope. Certainly I wish nothing bad upon him. Surely.”




Vbi expectabo diem agonis ad oculos et late nomine clamitat
Miss Swifteh's avatar

Versatile Lunatic

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                                              x x xI can’t remember all the things you said
                                              x x x xI can’t remember all the times
                                              x xYou turned that  PERFECT SMILE upside down
                                              x x x x x xAnd then spun it all around
                                              x x x x xIn the office that I animate
                                              x x x xI see you cry but I can’t relate to
                                              x x xWords from HAPPY SONGS
                                              x x x x x x(A title of a boy who is a little bit empty)


                                        x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xI S I D O R x K I R S C Hx x x x x x
                                        Accompanying Greer
                                        Located A London Street
                                        Busying himself with Daydreaming and causing road accidents


                                        As usual, the heavens had opened above London. Isidor often wondered if the weather were somehow controlled by a Magus with a distinct grudge against him, for the skies seemed clear only when he was in his office and buried beneath piles of work, yet when he stepped outside to return home it was always into sheets of rain. The man sighed as he opened his sturdy black umbrella and pulled the thick woolen lapels of his coat around his jaw. His blue gaze drifted upwards, glancing at what was visible of the blackened sky beneath the protective shield of his umbrella.
                                        He liked to keep track of the phases of the moon. His guardian and mentor, Sir Edwin, had tried to encourage an interest in astronomy in his young ward that had never really taken. However, despite his lack of fervent interest in the heavenly bodies, Isidor had still retained the habit of looking up at the night sky and noting the phase of the moon. Unfortunately, London was hardly the best location in the world to be observing the night's sky, for even when the clouds were clear, there was always the obscuring smoke and fog of the city that marred the view.

                                        The moon was nowhere to be seen - big surprise there. He spent no longer looking for it as he was growing cold in the rain; Isidor pressed on with his journey home, moving with haste. After all, it didn't pay to linger on the streets in the dark.
                                        His mind, however, was somewhat distracted as he walked. He felt somewhat cheated that he hadn't been able to glimpse the moon. Wasn't it close to full by now? Sir Edwin was bound to comment, next he saw the man. In the past few months he had been fascinated with the concept of a 'lunatic' - ever since, in fact, Isidor had taken an equally strong interest in mental health. It was typical of the man to delve into the occult whilst his ward investigated the practical.
                                        Isidor tapped his fingers on the handle of his umbrella, eyes focused on the cobbles below. All his life seemed to encompass lately were cases, cases, cases. He was constantly spewing Latin phrases and drawing up new plans of action; his days were spent travelling from home to home, institution to institution; he took all his meals in his library or study. When was the last time he had a little fun?
                                        He rather fancied a quite drink at home, settled in his armchair. Or perhaps a trip to the theatre? The ballet? Sir Edwin would surely accompany him, should he wish to go.

                                        Deep in thought, he thought that he had imagined the sound of hooves. Without thinking to look, Isidor began to cross the road and stepped into the path of Duke Montgomery's horse. As the creature let out a startled cry Isidor looked up in shock, his heart practically stopping in surprise--
                                        For a moment, the world slowed. Isidor could see the horse's legs rise and it's head rearing back, a look of panic in it's eyes. He stumbled backwards and tripped over the edge of the pavement, falling backwards...
                                        He landed abruptly and time returned to normal. A sharp pain flashed across Isidor's forehead and he let out a cry of pain. Instinctively his hand flew to his nose where a trickle of blood fell from his nostril.
                                        The rain continued to fall hard and he groped for his umbrella as he rose unsteadily to his feet, glancing over at the horse and it's rider.
                                        " I'm terribly sorry, " He apologised, despite the circumstances, " I was unattentive. Are you hurt? "


                                        In my life there are few opportunities to find releasex x
                                        And justify some peacex x
WarriorofManlySpirit's avatar

Dapper Raider

The Duke Montgomery
The charming Scotsman is currently: Bowling over helpless civilians.

"My boy builds coffins for the rich and the poor,
Kings and queens them all knocked on
his door."
User Image - Blocked by "Display Image" Settings. Click to show.


Greer had seen the man step out in front of him, but even his reaction time wouldn’t do anything in regards to the horse speeding through the streets. He went to shout, scream at the man, anything, but his voice caught in throat as he felt his pupils change as his body tensed as he shifted into that mode. A voice screamed in his head that it was a horrible idea to be tensed up when an accident was clearly about to happen, but he couldn’t help it. His lack of control was becoming worse and worse.

It didn’t help that his mind had been working in overdrive. Murders, attempted assassinations, and of course Kristoff had reemerged from the underground at the worst time. He had to watch himself.

And that was the main reason he had been being conspicuous.

He felt the horse lift up from underneath him and panic, and he felt himself become loose from the saddle and be flung through the air.

And the next thing he knew he was laying in the mud, all over his white suit. He felt the back of his head sting and he laid there for a moment. His body relaxed and his body returned to normal. He took a breath before sitting up and smiling at the flustered stranger. ”Aye, aye, man. Ye alright yerself? Oh, yer bleeding man! Stop worryin’ ‘bout me man!” He said as the back of his head bled.





"Beggars and liars, gypsies and thieves,
They all come to him 'cause he's so
eager to please."
Miss Swifteh's avatar

Versatile Lunatic

User Image

                                              x x xI can’t remember all the things you said
                                              x x x xI can’t remember all the times
                                              x xYou turned that  PERFECT SMILE upside down
                                              x x x x x xAnd then spun it all around
                                              x x x x xIn the office that I animate
                                              x x x xI see you cry but I can’t relate to
                                              x x xWords from HAPPY SONGS
                                              x x x x x x(A title of a boy who is a little bit empty)


                                        x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xI S I D O R x K I R S C Hx x x x x x
                                        Accompanying Greer
                                        Located A London Street
                                        Busying himself with offering an invitation


                                        Isidor raised a brow at the Scotsman's thick accent, a little surprised to hear the dialect so far south from it's homeland. Then again, he reminded himself, this was London; the sprawling capital attracted men and women from all across the globe, so a fellow countryman from the North of the Island was perfectly perceivable. Regardless, the man was baffling. A Scotsman riding on horseback through the streets of London, dressed in fine attire - a white suit, at that? It's the sort of thing one might imagine after a stretch on the opium...
                                        Recognition clicked; Isidor reeled back slightly in surprise. This was Duke Montgomery, one of his fellow Magus. He knew very little about the man - he never really spoke to any of his brethren if he could help it - which put Isidor a little on edge.

                                        Recently death had come for two of the Magus - one perished whilst the other slipped death's grasp. Isidor had little concern for the reasons behind these events, nor did he worry about the growing unrest inspired by the Welsh troublemaker amongst their group. What made him nervous, however, was that the culprit behind the assassinations was more than likely a Magus. One - or possibly more - of their group was dangerous (or at least, more so than usual). As a general rule, Isidor liked to keep his head down. In his professional life, he refused to take prolific cases; in dealings with the Magus, he kept his mouth shut and stayed out of trouble. He didn't think that he was in danger of losing his life, but he didn't want to let his guard down.
                                        He feared the moment he did would be his last.

                                        He felt that he should move on as quickly as possible from his collision with the Scotsman. What if the Duke was the mysterious killer amongst them?
                                        Don't be ridiculous, he's riding a bloody horse. he chastised himself. He furrowed his brow and doubled at the hip, dipping down so he could view the back of the man's head.
                                        " That looks somewhat...painful. " He wavered, hesitating slightly. What if the Duke chose to press legal charges against him? Isidor was fairly confident that he would have no case, but he didn't really want the hassle. Still, he seemed an amiable man...
                                        " Would you like to accompany me to my office? It's not far and I have a clean cloth for first aid. " He offered, smiling wryly, " I may even have a dash of whisky left in the drink's cabinet. "
                                        Ha! Whisky for the Scottish Duke? Shame on me for playing to stereotypes...


                                        In my life there are few opportunities to find releasex x
                                        And justify some peacex x
Miss Swifteh's avatar

Versatile Lunatic

User Image

                                        x x xA dog with disease
                                        x x x xYou’re the king of the sleaze
                                        x x-PUT YOUR MONEY WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS MISTER KNOW-IT-ALL
                                        x x x x x xWas the fin on your back part of the deal, SHARK
                                        x x x x xInsane!Should be put inside
                                        x x x xYou’re a sewer-rat decaying in a cesspool of pride
                                        x x xShould be made unemployed, make yourself null and void
                                        x x x x x xMAKE ME FEEL GOOD


                                  x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x xY A O x J I A N Y Ix x x x x x
                                  Accompanying Sherlock and Kristoff 
                                  Located Rothman's Presses 
                                  Busying himself with casual insults  


                                  How indeed.
                                  Jianyi kept his smile steady even as his bluff was (very subtely) called. He supposed he could have projected a more 'believable' image of himself, but what would be the point? Sherlock was far too intelligent to be duped by such things. He was the kind of man to pick up even the smallest details that others would miss - take, for example, his lack of footsteps. Most assume that his silk shoes dampened the sound, but the Chinaman suspected that Sherlock didn't function on the assumptions of 'most'. He made secure logical deductions, not 'assumptions'.
                                  For this reason, it was not the fact that he had been caught out that irked him, but that it was Kristoff who had done so. Jianyi felt a rise within him, a bubbling of agitation - yet he kept his cool, acting as though the comment were merely a joke. What did he care if the gangster made an observation? There are so many I can make about you, 'beloved' Kristoff.

                                  Jianyi paced the room a little, although he touched nothing (not that he could if he wanted to, of course). His dark eyes scanned the test pages of books and pamphlets, an assortment of pens, a stack of rival materials. Everything he saw fitted the usual profile of a publisher; nothing stood out to him as unusual. He glanced in Sherlock's direction, wondering if the detective would find something out of the ordinary--
                                  His attention was dragged back to Kristoff as the other spoke of his antics at the recent party. 'Favourite little Duke'? He echoed in the privacy of his mind, his eyes narrowing slightly. That was the sort of term one used to address another in circumstances of either great affection or great dislike. Judging from the other's tone, Jianyi was betting on the latter.
                                  " He's well. " He responded slowly, bowing his head slightly. " He provided me with a well of entertainment for the evening. It's a pity you didn't attend yourself, Kristoff, you're certainly very...ah--what's the English word? Oh yes: Laughable. " He commented, feigning his ignorance of the language.


                                  Death on two legsx x
                                  You’re tearing me apartx x

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