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I think I am here.

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  1. I think I am here.
    “And why would he be there?” Lusk said, walking forward. By now the stage was practically empty, the public had been evacuated in case of further danger. Just a safety precaution, but it was already obvious that the nature of this attack was not mass murder or terrorism, it was careful calculation, a statement. We can murder your own high rank, in your own party, using your own techniques. “But if you’re right and he is there...” Lusk pointed at Mike. “His descriptions can help us identify him. We can ambush him, capture him, then interrogate him about the spikes. He should know details about them, he was the one who fired them. Let’s just hope he doesn’t kill himself like this girl did.” He gestured to Forr.
  2. I think I am here.
    “I won’t let you down, random spectator!” Wes called out and turned, stared at the gun, safety turned off, pointing right at him. Oh dear. He put his hands up. What could he do. “I didn’t know that,” he said, responding to her again. “Maybe you guys should put more signs stating that instead of, in my defence, making those cookies really easy to steal, as well as explaining to me what you guys do in the duel!” He threw his cloak upwards in front of him as a distraction, and then ducked, grabbing dirt in both of his hands and lunging forward, trying to throw the dirt at her face, and trying to knock the gun out of her hands.
  3. I think I am here.
    Alask watched from his seat as they talked in front of him. No help. It seemed the Scholar’s Guild hadn’t been the best starting choice when they had wanted to go to guilds. Though, in the long run, they might have come in handy with their teaching of reading, writing, finances through schooling. But of course, none of that long-term stuff meant anything if the Forge community couldn’t survive the short-term. “Me neither,” Alask said, replying to Jale, buying himself more thinking time before it seemed weird. Some books wood certainly be useful - anything would be useful, really - but what would more books entail? Studying, reading, staring at construction manuals of buildings and analysing them? That seemed like a lot more sleepless night for Alask even if he wasn’t out hunting. “The books would be appreciated,” Alask said. A thought came to his mind. “Would you happen to posses a soulcaster fabrial, or does one of your Scholar’s Guild people have the soulcasting surge? We could really use that.” Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? Soulcasters could make food, lots of it, and could create structures and shelters out of thin air. They would be very simple in design, but the Forge was aiming for functionality, not fashion.
  4. I think I am here.
    Revival time! As usual... I have no idea how to describe myself But I will try to do one on @Rushu42, that one younger cousin or something that you all look at in family gatherings, which already know how to master the cello or something at half your age. Maybe a bad analogy , but you can see their talent is obvious and their knack for making a place for themselves in this large family despite being such a newcomer to it, which is something not many can do. So, maybe a good analogy I’m sure we all have that one younger kid in our families who can quote Socrates and debate the flight trajectory mechanics of a NASA spacecraft when we’re just sitting there making paper aeroplanes .
  5. I think I am here.
    A wedding, between Jason and Ax. Today. Rob thought that was very cool. He wanted to ask how he could help in organising, but everybody seemed to already have everything handled. He felt a stab of guilt at not knowing the event sooner, so he could have thought something nice or creative to present at the wedding. But creativity was never Rob’s strong suit anyway. “Well, I guess you and Doc can talk,” he said to Ashlyn. “I’ll be on my way. Have fun.” He took one step out of the kitchen, unsure what to do now that Ashlyn was talking to Doc and everyone else was busy organising the wedding. Maybe he could start working on a wedding gift? Great idea, he thought as he sat on the couch, took out his phone and began looking on Pinterest. He usually used Pinterest for cat photos, but this time it was to get ideas for what he could make as a present, as he was still the creative equivalent of an empty bucket.
  6. I think I am here.
    “She’s a contractee, you scraping flatlander,” Price said, animosity in his voice. “Was a contractee,” he corrected himself. “Now we’re all just trying to get back home. As you notice,” He gestured around. “We are without a carriage. How do you not remember this?” It was the gods, he knew it had to be the gods. Playing with their minds. Erasing Zura’s memory, erasing the peace she had made with Price. Price shouldn’t above been angry, it wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t remember, but yet, the way she spoke, brandished that knife, only reminded him of all the other evil Cahayans in his life. The one ‘good’ Cahayan he’d met had just had her memories erased by the gods themselves. Maybe the gods want the war, Price realised. It made sense, no better situation to breed religious fanaticism than war. And that would be why they had approached Price, Sagitta, and Zura. Not just because it was odd, but because they didn’t want the three different nationalities making peace. And Sagitta... she had her mind erased as well. She was talking of Sensation’s blessing, the stars. As if she had forgotten about the gods not caring about their existence, forgotten her discussion with Price. “Don’t you remember our conversation with Sensation?” He turned and asked her quietly, because it had all gone downhill so quickly. And him... well, Price didn’t know what memories had been erased from him. Maybe lots, maybe none. But he at least remembered the gods, the evil gods that wanted this war. The tips from a bunch of twigs around Price burst into small black flames. @Lunamor @Sorana
  7. I think I am here.
    For our very own @MetaTerminal
  8. I think I am here.
  9. I think I am here.
    Ooh, I like this prompt for many reasons. How do you portray literal homelessness, but also keep the context that this is within the Alleyverse? For this one I tried to make it both. So the next time you see a homeless person on the street, maybe there’s more than meets the eye to them Inktober #4:
  10. I think I am here.
    Cheh nodded as John explained where all the metal came from, tilting his head at Jessy’s question and awaiting John’s response. “As far as I know they are evil aliens, that don’t exist? Or shouldn’t? Definitely not the farming reaper I was thinking of.”
  11. I think I am here.
    Rob looked blankly back at her. “Tortillas,” he said. “And decorating? Is there some special event happening?” Maybe someone’s birthday he’d forgotten. It was hard keeping track of so many housemates. His birthday was easy and simple, just like all other parts of him. 1st of January. If there was any such thing as a ‘default setting’ for people, it would be Rob.
  12. I think I am here.
    “Sure,” Rob said. As they walked to the house Rob opened the glass sliding door and began walking towards the kitchen, slowly enough Ashlyn could follow. In the kitchen there was Evelyn and Cassie, making tortillas, as well as Doc. Bingo. “Hey Doc,” he said. “Could we talk to you for a second?” @Dr. Dapper
  13. I think I am here.
  14. I think I am here.
    “That’s so cool,” Wes said. Immediately he tried reigning in the fanboyism, but sometimes he couldn’t help but think how cool some of the other parts of the Alleyverse were. Parts he would never get to see. Even the Ghostbloods had some seriously cool stuff, but all of that was ‘classfied’ and not allowed for Wes to see. At least the DA allowed everyone to know the cool things. Makes me wonder what things they do keep secret. The other Wes was right, this secret business sure is interesting. “Though he seems brave. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle a monster like that.” He blinked and then wrapped his cloak around himself in memory of his own punishment he’d gotten. If a simple scar had almost ruined his mental state and kept him from getting in trouble with superiors ever again, then he was no match for a DA tentacle-beast. “Though, he seems pretty fun to hang out with,” Wes said, looking up at Karin again, bringing the conversation to more lighthearted waters again.
  15. I think I am here.
    “I guess that leaves the basement for me,” Marcel said, walking towards the small couple of steps that led to a sturdy wooden door. Marcel didn’t need to lay a hand on the door handle to tell it was going to be locked. But he did try to open it anyway, because assuming was bad for everyone, and voila, the door was locked. Sighing Marcel peered into his pockets and brought out one of his bloodseals. It was another strength sigil, flat at the bottom to fit the etchings of a stamp and sharp at the top. All well-made bloodseals were sharp at the top, for the conveniences of the bloodsealer. Pricking himself in the finger, Marcel stopped the bleeding by absorbing the blood onto the stamp, and then pressing the bloodseal straight against the door. It was another strength sigil, like the one he had used against the man at the disco. It glowed a crimson red and Marcel felt his finger burn like agony for a moment, then cut out. The stronger and more complicated the bloodseal, the more pain it gave to the subject. Stepping forward Marcel punched into the door and it moved back a little with a ‘humph’. Another punch and a kick and the door flew off of its hinges. Walking into the dark basement, Marcel cancelled the bloodseal and began looking for clues.
  16. I think I am here.
    Cheh blinked and they were elsewhere. A house. Alyssa’s house, by the way she described it. A quick look out the window only brought nausea to Cheh, he still wasn’t used to heights, but the one thing that surprised him was metal. So much metal. Metal for the drones, the people, the houses, the millions of stories downwards, as well as for the overwhelming amount of technology. “How in the Avatar’s name do you get all of these resources?” Cheh asked. If anyplace would be ideal to learn metalbending, it would be here. But still, he felt no connection to the sub-bending skill. “Do you... you don’t invade other planets, do you?”
  17. I think I am here.
    Beautiful song, Sorana! I’ve said more in our PM Ooh, insanity. Can’t wait to see what amazing art people make to this prompt! Here is my Inktober #3:
  18. I think I am here.
    Wes continued smiling, eyes widening a little at the mention of a man with fluoride in his blood. What kind of technology could accomplish that? Or would it just require a very precise soulcaster? And fluoride, fascinating. “Back at the dorms,” he said. “We would evacuate for much less interesting things. Someone accidentally caused an electrical fire while cooking a pancake right next to the Epic who sweated petroleum. Half that dorm-block burnt down because of a stupid pancake.” He looked down and laughed lightheartedly. “He got the abominations shift. What did your guy get as punishment?” @kenod
  19. I think I am here.
    Hello! This is a little post saying that there is still space for people who want to join the GB plot. Unfortunately many of the people who were interested before have fallen into inactivity. We still have a small group RPing in Oasis, but you know what they say, the more, the merrier So come one and come all, the GB plot is still open
  20. I think I am here.
    “I wouldn’t bother,” Rob said, standing up as well. “Doc doesn’t usually care for those things, in fact he’d probably just be happy you want to help than thinking anything about your clothes.” Rob looked down, suppressing any smile that could have appeared. “We’re Radiants, weird things are bound to happen anyway.” He looked to her as he took a step towards the house. “Though, if you need new clothes but don’t want to travel all the way back home, I’m sure one of the girls would be happy to help. That or you can take one of my many identical shirts, but they might be a bit big,” he joked. @Blessing of Potency
  21. I think I am here.
    “So you give away the good cookies and keep the bad ones for yourselves?” Wes asked, before getting smacked by all of the punches and stumbling back a couple steps. “It seems I would have gotten a bad deal even if I did steal the cookies.” He prepared to lurch for the gun but his glasses fell on the sandy ground and suddenly Wes was almost completely blind. He crouched down, scrambling for them. “Oh, colours,” he said. “Colours, colours, colours.”
  22. I think I am here.
    Alask nodded. “A populace that can help themselves,” he said, repeating his earlier words to Aln. They were words he’d read years ago, written in a thick book by an armchair philosopher some months after the Seven Day War. They too had been speaking about the slums, they only difference being they had never done anything about it. “Is in the end a stronger and longer lasting one.” He smiled and looked to a man entering the room, white clock draped over him. He nodded towards him. He’d come from a backdoor, so he must have already been part of the Scholar’s Guild. “Hey,” he said, giving a small wave. “You’ve heard our proposal?”
  23. I think I am here.
    “I’m sure,” Wes said, smiling and signing the waiver with a quick scratching of his signature. He stuffed the sheet of paper back in his overall pockets and offered the pen back to her. “This city is amazing. I bet there are people here who actually do write in blood.” He looked around. In the Alleys, he mouthed, then smiled. Those alleys were scary. Deep and dark and scary, but also amazing. He was sure Mike wouldn’t share his views, but sometimes Wes wondered what sorts of long-forgotten technology rested in those alleys. Surely something interesting.
  24. I think I am here.
    Symbolism. Lusk had never had a knack for it as some other people had. If you wanted to say something, why not just do it outright? Why all these metaphors and things-representing-other-things and literary word games to get someone to understand a message? Maybe it was just that certain professions that incentivised subtlety, but if they existed Lusk couldn’t find them. He was an assassin, if there was anyone who would have to be subtle it was him. Tell that to the ‘subtle’ spike you just threatened that girl with, he told himself as the girl dropped dead, body dropping straight onto the Ghostblood symbol burnt on the stage, a nice piece of symbolism that was completely and utterly lost on Lusk. But while the symbolism had escaped him, the girl’s words hadn’t. The UnInvested. “We abolished them years ago,” he said, answering Mike’s question but looking at the spike he’d thrusted into the ground, picking it up. “They were a rival assassin guild. Anti-Investiture extremists, more like, but you had to give them credit, they were good.” He stood up. “But we were better. They were wiped out along with our other competitor guilds.” He turned the spike in his hands. “At least we thought so.” He looked to Mike again. The kid with the animals. “How would you track these spikes? It’s not like they came with a manufacturer’s seal.”
  25. I think I am here.
    “Thank you,” Wes said, taking the waiver and holding it out in front of him. It looked very official, not dissimilar to the questionnaires he’d written in earlier. He trusted ACE wouldn’t put anything in the waiver to manipulate him with so he folded it neatly and placed it in his pocket. I suppose I can just keep it in my pocket, then? If there was a place for him to put the waiver, he couldn’t see it. But while there was no place for the waiver, there was a place for him. Right at the end of the descent line, apparently. As he slotted himself within the orderly line he figured he could sign the waiver now, while he was waiting. Smiling he took out the waiver again, and then checked for a pen. Unfortunately, the overalls were empty (of course) and while his cloak provided a variety of advantages, pockets weren’t one of them. “Um, excuse me?” He asked quietly to the person in front of him in the line. “You wouldn’t happen to have a pen, would you? Or, I mean, a pencil works as well. Anything to write with. Except blood.” He hoped he wasn’t being too picky. @kenod
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