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<blockquote data-quote="Captain Claymore" data-source="post: 2077245" data-attributes="member: 12634"><p>This story has now become a collaborative effort through a play by post format. I share the writing with my players and spruce it up. These next few pieces introduce the characters. Enjoy.</p><p></p><p>PART ONE.</p><p></p><p>8:30AM - Daniel Ericks' Apartment, The Tombs.</p><p></p><p> Light streamed through the window waking Daniel up well before his alarm went off and he stretched out in bed, watching the ceiling for a few moments before he actually got up, accompanied by a jaw-cracking yawn. Stretching, he listened to the sound of his vertebrae popping before he grabbed a clean towel from the basket by his dresser and headed for the shower.</p><p></p><p> A nice hot shower later, he was in the kitchen, brewing some tea and listening to the morning news on the radio. After his breakfast was fixed, he took it into the living room and sat on the couch, reading while he ate his cereal and drank his tea. After he was done, he poured out the rest of the milk in the bottle and set it in a little saucer on the window sill for Schrodinger when she decided to come by. Another moment dressing and he was out the door.</p><p></p><p> He checked his mail on the way down and greeted the apartment building's other tenants with a smile and a kind word before stepping out onto the street. He had the day off today, so he would be running errands during the day and working at the soup kitchen in the early evening.</p><p>____________________________________</p><p></p><p> At around one o'clock, after dropping the electric bill in the mail and getting most of his errands accomplished, Daniel stopped back by his apartment for a quick lunch. Mrs. Simpson - his downstair neighbor, was working on the little patch of grass and flowers by the front steps. She levered her sixty-five year old, plump frame up from where she had been kneeling in the grass, dusting wet dirt from her gloved hands.</p><p></p><p> "Afternoon Danny. What's new on the street?" Her voice held that song-sweet tone common to nice old black women the world over. "That little ol' cat a' yours was just cryin for you a few minutes ago. I guess she was wantin' more milk and thought you was home." She shook her head in mock consternation, "You'd think you'd have half the strays in the tombs outside your window..." her grey eyebrow arched, "... strange how your little puss is the only one that comes callin'."</p><p></p><p> The Tombs was the pet name folks of this particular group of neighborhoods used for their community. The term was originally used as a slur - coined by those who were referring to the area's high death rate - but like so many things, over time the name lost it's negative connotation. The people who called the Tombs home, now attached a strange sense of pride to the title - as if their common sufferings had been given a name, and that name drew them together.</p><p></p><p>"Afternoon Mrs. Simpson, "he smiled brightly at her, bracing his groceries against his shoulder as he stopped to pass the time of day. "Nothing much is new on the street, I suppose. Same old, same old, ya' know. Your flowers are starting to look real nice," he studied them for a moment and then looked back up at her "We'll have a whole garden out in front of here one of these days,"</p><p></p><p> She beamed, "Awwwe... you know just how to brighten an old lady's day you charmer." looking at her little patch of green amongst the grey, "I gotta get as much color and life into this grey neighborhood as I can Danny. Ain't enough green in the Tombs! That's what I say every year at the council meetin' and every year they say we ain't got the money for parks!" She sighed, "Ah well Danny, we do what we can, we do what we can. Why you standin' round' here talkin' to me? You go upstairs and see what that darn fool cat wants." She smiled a white denture smile and gently pushed him towards the stairs.</p><p></p><p> He grinned broadly at her before mounting the stairs, "You take it easy, Mrs. Simpson, and you'll outlive us all, I swear," he took the steps two at a time, shifting his groceries so that he could get at his keys when he reached the front door of his apartment. He fumbled with the lock for a moment, like he always did, before opening it up and stepping inside.</p><p></p><p> As he started to put away his groceries and prepare a thick roast beef sandwich (heavy on the mustard), Daniel looked around the apartment for Schrodinger, finally calling out when he couldn't see her.</p><p></p><p> "Honey, I'm home!"</p><p></p><p> Though Daniel didn't yet see the cat, the voice of Catherine Zeta Jones answered in his mind, *I thought that old bat would never give me a chance to open your window.*</p><p></p><p> Since the day his Bast friend had watched the movie Zoro, her 'voice' of choice had been that of the sultry, dark haired actress whenever they conversed. Even though it was familiar by now, Daniel still remained amused at Schrodinger's choice of mental voices. It made him feel like he was in one of those Hollywood movies - where big name stars do voice-overs for animals.</p><p></p><p> Daniel noticed his can-opener in the sink and could smell the faint aroma of high priced cat food. It was obvious that Schrodinger had been around long enough to eat. He took a moment to reflect once more on the trouble a cat with Telekinetic type magic could cause.</p><p></p><p> 'Catherine' herself made a personal appearance as Daniel sat down at his couch with sandwich in hand. The calico cat sauntered out of the bedroom and hopped nimbly onto the coffee table - orange eyes following the roast beef as he set the plate down. *I've news you might be interested in Clark...* She continued to follow the sandwich as he brought it to his lips for a bite, *... It seems there is once again trouble in Metropolis.* She loved to razz him about his protective nature. He had learned the hard way that it was best not to acknowledge such remarks.</p><p></p><p> He also learned the hard way not to set his food back on the plate when she was in the room. He reached down with his free hand to scratch lightly behind her ears and took another bite, washing it down with a bit of soda. "So what's going on?"</p><p></p><p> For a moment Schrodinger seemed disappointed when Daniel held on to his sandwich, but quickly feigned disinterest and began to lick her paw, *I thought you might have heard already - a couple college girls were attacked last night in the Tombs - one was killed. They're saying it was bums who did it...* She let the last part hang, as if doubting what "they" had concluded.</p><p></p><p> Splitting off a small portion of the sandwich, Daniel put it down next to her and mulled over the news. "Do you know where it happened?" his tone was concerned, rather than quizzical. Something like this - it could be trouble.</p><p></p><p> She looked down at the corner of sandwich and then went back to grooming herself, *Way up on 34th street - just off the boardwalk.*</p><p></p><p> The boardwalk was another local title given to the one-time main thoroughfare of old downtown. The name referred to all the boarded up storefronts that lined the way. Of all the areas within the Tombs, the boardwalk was one of the worst. It was also a good distance from Daniel's "zone" - the area around his apartment that he normally looked after and where his reputation carried some weight. The Tombs was a big place, and one man could only do so much. Still, murder was never a good thing, especially when it was the murder of a West-sider by a local. Daniel guessed that the rousters would be out in force now - making life even tougher for the homeless in the area.</p><p></p><p> He sighed, finishing off the rest of his sandwich before standing up. "I'll head down there and check things out. Why don't you stay here and reconnoiter?" his voice was light, and it was obvious that he was making a small joke at his friend's expense. Before she could reply, he grabbed his house keys from the table and headed out the door. He could already tell that it was going to be a long day.</p><p></p><p> ===========================================================</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Captain Claymore, post: 2077245, member: 12634"] This story has now become a collaborative effort through a play by post format. I share the writing with my players and spruce it up. These next few pieces introduce the characters. Enjoy. PART ONE. 8:30AM - Daniel Ericks' Apartment, The Tombs. Light streamed through the window waking Daniel up well before his alarm went off and he stretched out in bed, watching the ceiling for a few moments before he actually got up, accompanied by a jaw-cracking yawn. Stretching, he listened to the sound of his vertebrae popping before he grabbed a clean towel from the basket by his dresser and headed for the shower. A nice hot shower later, he was in the kitchen, brewing some tea and listening to the morning news on the radio. After his breakfast was fixed, he took it into the living room and sat on the couch, reading while he ate his cereal and drank his tea. After he was done, he poured out the rest of the milk in the bottle and set it in a little saucer on the window sill for Schrodinger when she decided to come by. Another moment dressing and he was out the door. He checked his mail on the way down and greeted the apartment building's other tenants with a smile and a kind word before stepping out onto the street. He had the day off today, so he would be running errands during the day and working at the soup kitchen in the early evening. ____________________________________ At around one o'clock, after dropping the electric bill in the mail and getting most of his errands accomplished, Daniel stopped back by his apartment for a quick lunch. Mrs. Simpson - his downstair neighbor, was working on the little patch of grass and flowers by the front steps. She levered her sixty-five year old, plump frame up from where she had been kneeling in the grass, dusting wet dirt from her gloved hands. "Afternoon Danny. What's new on the street?" Her voice held that song-sweet tone common to nice old black women the world over. "That little ol' cat a' yours was just cryin for you a few minutes ago. I guess she was wantin' more milk and thought you was home." She shook her head in mock consternation, "You'd think you'd have half the strays in the tombs outside your window..." her grey eyebrow arched, "... strange how your little puss is the only one that comes callin'." The Tombs was the pet name folks of this particular group of neighborhoods used for their community. The term was originally used as a slur - coined by those who were referring to the area's high death rate - but like so many things, over time the name lost it's negative connotation. The people who called the Tombs home, now attached a strange sense of pride to the title - as if their common sufferings had been given a name, and that name drew them together. "Afternoon Mrs. Simpson, "he smiled brightly at her, bracing his groceries against his shoulder as he stopped to pass the time of day. "Nothing much is new on the street, I suppose. Same old, same old, ya' know. Your flowers are starting to look real nice," he studied them for a moment and then looked back up at her "We'll have a whole garden out in front of here one of these days," She beamed, "Awwwe... you know just how to brighten an old lady's day you charmer." looking at her little patch of green amongst the grey, "I gotta get as much color and life into this grey neighborhood as I can Danny. Ain't enough green in the Tombs! That's what I say every year at the council meetin' and every year they say we ain't got the money for parks!" She sighed, "Ah well Danny, we do what we can, we do what we can. Why you standin' round' here talkin' to me? You go upstairs and see what that darn fool cat wants." She smiled a white denture smile and gently pushed him towards the stairs. He grinned broadly at her before mounting the stairs, "You take it easy, Mrs. Simpson, and you'll outlive us all, I swear," he took the steps two at a time, shifting his groceries so that he could get at his keys when he reached the front door of his apartment. He fumbled with the lock for a moment, like he always did, before opening it up and stepping inside. As he started to put away his groceries and prepare a thick roast beef sandwich (heavy on the mustard), Daniel looked around the apartment for Schrodinger, finally calling out when he couldn't see her. "Honey, I'm home!" Though Daniel didn't yet see the cat, the voice of Catherine Zeta Jones answered in his mind, *I thought that old bat would never give me a chance to open your window.* Since the day his Bast friend had watched the movie Zoro, her 'voice' of choice had been that of the sultry, dark haired actress whenever they conversed. Even though it was familiar by now, Daniel still remained amused at Schrodinger's choice of mental voices. It made him feel like he was in one of those Hollywood movies - where big name stars do voice-overs for animals. Daniel noticed his can-opener in the sink and could smell the faint aroma of high priced cat food. It was obvious that Schrodinger had been around long enough to eat. He took a moment to reflect once more on the trouble a cat with Telekinetic type magic could cause. 'Catherine' herself made a personal appearance as Daniel sat down at his couch with sandwich in hand. The calico cat sauntered out of the bedroom and hopped nimbly onto the coffee table - orange eyes following the roast beef as he set the plate down. *I've news you might be interested in Clark...* She continued to follow the sandwich as he brought it to his lips for a bite, *... It seems there is once again trouble in Metropolis.* She loved to razz him about his protective nature. He had learned the hard way that it was best not to acknowledge such remarks. He also learned the hard way not to set his food back on the plate when she was in the room. He reached down with his free hand to scratch lightly behind her ears and took another bite, washing it down with a bit of soda. "So what's going on?" For a moment Schrodinger seemed disappointed when Daniel held on to his sandwich, but quickly feigned disinterest and began to lick her paw, *I thought you might have heard already - a couple college girls were attacked last night in the Tombs - one was killed. They're saying it was bums who did it...* She let the last part hang, as if doubting what "they" had concluded. Splitting off a small portion of the sandwich, Daniel put it down next to her and mulled over the news. "Do you know where it happened?" his tone was concerned, rather than quizzical. Something like this - it could be trouble. She looked down at the corner of sandwich and then went back to grooming herself, *Way up on 34th street - just off the boardwalk.* The boardwalk was another local title given to the one-time main thoroughfare of old downtown. The name referred to all the boarded up storefronts that lined the way. Of all the areas within the Tombs, the boardwalk was one of the worst. It was also a good distance from Daniel's "zone" - the area around his apartment that he normally looked after and where his reputation carried some weight. The Tombs was a big place, and one man could only do so much. Still, murder was never a good thing, especially when it was the murder of a West-sider by a local. Daniel guessed that the rousters would be out in force now - making life even tougher for the homeless in the area. He sighed, finishing off the rest of his sandwich before standing up. "I'll head down there and check things out. Why don't you stay here and reconnoiter?" his voice was light, and it was obvious that he was making a small joke at his friend's expense. Before she could reply, he grabbed his house keys from the table and headed out the door. He could already tell that it was going to be a long day. =========================================================== [/QUOTE]
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