Heya, just found your PM. Just letting you know that I'm still interested once you pick this up again.
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Glad to see that the game is still running. Got a new laptop recently and I'm still getting everything set up and transferred from my old one. Writing from a cellphone is a trial, specially for wordy games like these.
Just checking in to see if the game is still on. I'm really liking the premise, and hope we can get past the intro to other interesting things.
'This guy really likes to hear himself speak...' Taylor couldn't help but think to herself. She nods along to the man as he explains his pedigree and the various business connections he has back east. She only pauses momentarily when he brings up a 'particular Southern institution'. It doesn't take a genius to understand that he means slavery. It certainly cements her distaste for the man. Nevertheless she doesn't break face, not if she can find out more about his operations in the area. "I must say you sound quite well off, Sir. I can certainly see why you'd pick a place as high-class as the Knutsford Hotel. Can't think of anyplace in the city more posh than here." Taylor says in flattery. "Though what brings a man of your stature all the way out West into, well... the sticks?"
Although the name sounds vaguely familiar, Taylor cannot recall exactly where she's heard the name before. Perhaps she should ask the man? "Name's Taylor MacConnel, Sir. I'm from Virginia, around the Richmond area. It's a pleasure to meet you," she replied with a short bow of her head. "I think I might have heard your name in passing during my rounds through the city, but I'm still fairly new around here," she continues, hoping to gain some info on why he sounds familiar.
...I'm actually kinda tilted right now because of my rolls.
Would knowing James' family name fall under knowledge:local or knowledge:nobility?
For a moment, Taylor's own metaphorical hackles rise as she senses something amiss in the man's involuntary reaction, but quickly smothers them under her cheery facade. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, taking the gentleman's hand with barest moment of hesitation, and gives him an apologetic smile. "Thank you, Sir. Though the fault's mine really. I really ought to look out where I'm going more often," she says, playing off her earlier skittishness as mere clumsiness. Oddly to the man, even at such close proximity, Taylor would smell only of road dust, well-worn leather and the faint aromas of humanity one picks up during the day. Any distinctive smells are mute in comparison.
Taylor staggers to her feet. "Oh gosh, I am so sorry, Sir! I-I didn't see you there," the thoroughly rattled woman apologies profusely as she attempts to help the man she'd just collided with to his feet.
Sorry, I missed the GM's question squeezed in between the two story posts. I'm very sorry! I was actually waiting on the GM to respond to me (literally) running into the mercenary(?) party entering the hotel. Taylor wouldn't have had time to answer the disembodied voice in the middle of the foyer. Again, very sorry for the confusion! EDIT: I wanted to speak up about odd silence here, but I heard that the GM was busy recently so I didn't want to push, sorry.
Ah, I see. Thanks for forwarding the heads up.
Umm... any idea whose turn it is?
Whoops, I forgot to add some situational bonuses to my character sheet from one of my archetypes (guerilla). Fixing that now.
@Maiitsoh
Taylor accepts the signed documents back from Mr. Wyatt, taking a moment to check over the documents. A slight frown forms as she looks at the extra writing next to the man's signatures with mounting confusion. She looks up at the businessman with a raised eyebrow. "...Everything seems to be in order... Sir?" she says haltingly, unsure of what else to say about the strange words on the forms. She shakes her head to clear the confusion and stows the papers back into her mailbag for later processing. Maybe she could ask her boss about the odd script after work? Taylor then pulls out an ordinary brown package, about the size of a breadbox, tied in twine and stamped with a red seal. There's a pattern on the seal, but she doesn't know what it means. All she knows is that the USPS stamp on the side indicates that it is 1st-class priority mail and the note tucked in under the twine asks for a personal deliver. She presents it to Mr. Wyatt. "Here you go, Sir. Please make sure this makes it to Mr. Holmes as soon as possible. Have a good day!" She hurriedly gives a short bow and makes a wide berth around the man towards the exit of the hotel. Something about that man gives her the heebie-jeebies and she wants out.
Boy, I hope this shakes out all of the bad rolls in my dice early on because... yikes. I won't last long if my charcter continues to be this hapless on rolls.
"Right then, Mr. Wyatt." A bit of her drawl starts to seep into her speech. "If you'll just sign these waivers here, I can transfer the package over to you. This one certifies that you are acting in official capacity in the stead of Mr. Holmes and that the package has been delivered as to the best of our abilities in accordance to the commission. This one here authorizes the payment of a sum of thirty dollars by the delivery's commisioner to be wired to the Salt Lake City Post Office for sevices rendered. And this last one acknowledges that any form of mail fraud is punishable by federal law." She hands Mr. Wyatt each page in turn to be signed. "Standard policy," she shrugs, polite smile still on her face. Most days she hates bureaucracy and all of the paperwork such institutions entail, but today she'd begrudgingly admit it was good for covering ones own behind.
Why do I have the feeling that I'm about to do something reckless? I'll wait for Maiitsoh to make his roll before advancing.
Taylor turns around to regard the newcomer, leaving the bundle of letters on the receptionist's desk. Seeing the posh man standing behind her, she puts on a polite smile and bows her head slightly. "Ah. Hello, Sir. My name is Taylor. I am a postal worker, here to personally deliver a package to a one Mr. Holmes. Would you perhaps be him?" Internally she winces. Using 'Proper' speech and trying to keep her Virginian drawl out of her voice made her sound so wooden.
Right then, I've put up my first post. Let's get this adventure arolling.
Taylor walked down State Street, cheerily taking in the sights. Not even a year ago, when she and her father first arrived in Salt Lake City, she would have garnered suspicious looks and furtive side-glances from the locals. They were outsiders after all, gentiles. Worse, they were Catholic, even if not particularly devout ones; though how that tidbit of gossip was spread around she would never know. Her exotic looks didn't help, being a Japanese-Scot. She flipped her straight, red hair behind her shoulder and sighed, they even tittered about how she dressed herself! Well excuse her for not wanting to wear a full length dress while on her hunting expeditions; trousers and a belted tunic were the name of the game unless one wanted to get caught on every branch and thorn. Thankfully nowadays she merely was treated with polite tolerance. A few even smiled and greeted her along her routes through the city while delivering mail. A wicker to her right pulled Taylor from her thoughts. Glancing in that direction, she saw Crackerjack shaking her head to ward off a fly. Taylor smiled a little. Honestly, she didn't need the postal mare to make her rounds. In fact she probably could do her routes even faster if she left the mail-horse back at the office, but that would mean lugging around all of the mail she needed to deliver on her own back. Nooo thank you! Beside, she liked the horse's company, she had a very mild temperament and didn't mind Taylor's ramblings. Right now, the saddle bags were nearly empty. This was to be her last stop for the day and there were only a few more parcels left in the satchels. She'd left the Knutsford Hotel for last as there was a delivery with her that had specific instructions on it stating that the package must be delivered in person by a courier to a one, Mr. House. Taylor vaguely recalled hearing that he was some sort of big-shot business mogul out here in the west. She wasn't sure what to make of the odd request, but in the end it didn't concern her and she'd do her job faithfully. The commission fee promised upon successful delivery certainly helped too. Coming to a halt in front of the hotel, she made sure the package was securely in her own mail satchel along with the other deliveries before tying Crackerjack to the hitching post located outside the building. Entering the hotel was always an experience for Taylor. The foyer was... well she really didn't have words to describe it, but it was pretty damn fancy. She didn't gawk (this time) and made her way to the receptionist's desk, gracefully weaving through the various guests and bellhops bustling about the entrance in an impromptu dance. She then produced the stack of regular letters and other pamphlets with a bright smile and said, "Good morning, Ma'am! Here's today mail. And if you'd be so kind as to point me in the direction of a Mr. House's suite, I have a personal delivery for him."
Cool, does that mean we can post whenever we think we're ready to go, or should we wait until Wednesday first? |