THE Mafia VI Return of the Departed Emerald Dragon - Day 7

[Uncle Festy]

I grinned at [OoC_BestPost] Frank's speech. "Now that is the sort of man I can get behind." I was on my break, so I bought a soda out of my salary. Not one of those "special" sodas - a regular sprite, no ice. I pulled out a Milky Way bar, and started eating it. As I've said, I never drank, but for some reason, I couldn't go a day without a Milky Way bar.
I saw one of the bar's patrons focusing just a little too much attention on me. I walked over, Milky Way and Sprite in hand. "So... Zar Peter, is it? Would you do me a favor and stop staring at -"
The bartender cut me off. "Break time's over! Stop blabbing and start playing!"
I sighed dramatically. "We'll talk later." With that, I finished off the Milky Way and returned to the piano.

[Aemoh]

An older, nicely dressed gentleman walked about town, taking in the sights. It was his daily routine, a quick walk about town to get the paper, perhaps a bite to eat. But he didn't get that far this day, for he ran into Whitehelm giving his speech.

"Gah.. careful where you point that thing son. My hearing is bad enough as it is."

[Gwyn chan 'r Gwyll]

Gwyn takes an after-game drink, and chats with friends. He looks oddly as CurlyKitGirl talks to herself. Stupid crazies.

[Vavaara]

(( Apologies, but I don't have much time to RP out a decent post. ))

*Vavaara points at Purple Gelatinous Cube O' Doom*

[Alarra]

The clang of the doors behind me as I left the station carried with them a foreboding sense of finality. I'd looked upon this city before with a sense of wonder. The people, the opportunities, hope lying in wait round every corner.

That hope was gone. I looked down the crumbling streets, grime caked the cracked surface and a crumpled paper, battered by a stale wind, rolled across my shoe. I gingerly picked it up and managed to avoid the worst of the grease spots as I unwound the folds. The note was handwritten, scrawled in oddly neat type. It was short, to the point.

Meet at Lucky's. Something must be done. Or do you really want to continue to live like this? A slave to those enslaved by corruption and greed.... I don't.

It wasn't signed, nor was its intended recipient addressed by name. I thought of Lucky's. The grease encrusted floor, smoke so thick it could choke a cat, and patrons that would just as soon shoot you as know your name. I hadn't been there in years. But if I were in the business of looking for opposition to those in powerful places. Yeah... that would be the place to start.

A glance at my watch told me that it was too late to head there now. A woman like me in those parts at this time of day would only be there for one thing, and I thought it a little too early in my plan to start crossing that bridge.

By some miracle, it only took a couple blocks before I was able to round up a cab. The drive was silent. I guess neither of us were the type to chat up strangers, admittedly a dangerous pastime these days. I watched the city pass, cataloging the differences and dying a fraction inside each time we passed a pile of rubble which had once been a boutique, or a cluster of bodies *hopefully* sleeping near a doorway. Yes....the city had changed, and it wasn't difficult to see why. (Best Post - Helgraf )

[Fin]

Noticing a little late in the day that there is already somebody running a grocery store on this street Fin calmly walks outside and places a 20% off sale sign outside. Eyeing the competition Fin goes back to his sandwich.

[MattKatt]

Matt, finally tired of the dark corner of the other bar, got up, nodded to the barman and his other customers, and walked out the door. As he turned down the street and listened to the piano music dancing out the door

Man, Luckys new pianist (Uncle Festy) isnt that good. Maybe they should get a radio in there...

He lifted his collar and walked off down the street

[Ganurath]

Ganurath paid for the water and drank it slowly, listening to the speech of [OOC: Best Post ] Frank and the following exchange before taking his leave. He was never one for smoking even before his heart problems, so the atmosphere of Lucky's didn't suit him well. He stopped by a grocer's that had a 20% off sale, getting enough to take care of dinner and tomorrow's breakfast, nothing more. He could never know when somebody was going to be knocking on the door for protection money, so he never spent much in advance. He carried the single paper bag with both hands, not wanting to put too much of a strain on himself.

When he arrived back at the apartment, it had the usual appearance: Paranoid tenants, fearful for their lives and the lives of their families. Ganurath himself was one of the few tenants without family, so he only had to fear for himself. With the arrival of the mafia on top of the crooked cops, that was enough.

After dinner, Ganurath turned on a radio that was a nudge away from being a pile of scrap, watching the streets below for coming trouble as he listened to politicians bicker. One was in denial of police corruption and wanted to bring down crime. Another wanted to get rid of immigrants and corrupt police. One figured a way to deal with the mafia was to end the prohibition, now there's a thought. In the end, the bickering was the same, as was the result: Whichever politician was most corrupt would win it.

[Helgraf]

The show must go on.

The ringleader is dead and the clowns are rioting. Still the show must go on.

We walk in the shadow of giants, huge uncaring monoliths who crush would be patriots and the self-interested alike, breaking them against the hard, pitiless concrete as they pass. Not even honest hatred can be attributed to them; they move among us as if we were simply an inconvienent fog they must navigate while dealing with the few they consider equals.

I am a dead man who happens to still be pulling air. No, I make no story of powerful men thwarted or women philandered or police made fools of, though in my time I have done all of these things. No, I am a dead man because this is a dying city, and it kills us every moment, shattering hopes and instilling cynicism.

Love died too long ago, and no Hollywood reel about Sam and Effie can change that. Truth, too, has died. Men speak big bold words and fools rush in. Everyone cheers, but most of them are like marionettes on strings, giving a listless performance of all the expected actions. Courage is bought and distilled into a glass, and most of its proponents crawl into that glass, preferring the haze it makes of the harsh lights outside.

Still, the show must go on, and even an uninspired performance is better than nothing.

So I adjust my fedora, tighten my tie and grab the cane that helps me preserve an illusion of impotence. And I move into the city as I do every day, making the rounds of churches, shelters and yes, bars.

Sorry, dear observer. I am no more capable of rising above the addictions this pale echo of hell imposes upon us than any others. My particular torment is to know every moment the worthlessness of the life awaiting death that I endure. No liquor, no consolation of religion; for I am surely damned by my omissions as well as my actions; and no dame yet has proven me otherwise.

Desire has become king here, in this dying city.

Still, the show must go on.

I trade a Cuban (the sandwich, not the cigar) for half a bowl of chili and a name. It's not much to go by - it never is. But I've managed to make those little names stitch together into something resembling a tapesty of rags. Fulfilling the wants of others in exchange for a little comfort, and enough consideration to make it to the next one.

Sooner or later, it won't. And the show will go on without me; the clowns won't even miss a beat.

But I have a name and a place, and perhaps fickle fate smiles on me for a few hours, because the place is a bar, and bartenders serve drinks to their friends. And I haven't met a bartender yet who didn't shortly afterward become my friend.

*points at Jontom Xire*

((Best post: Helgraf!
If, however, it's not permitted, to vote for oneself, then Supagoof. ))

[The Bushranger]

As Mr. O'Connell continues to watch the activites at the port, he notices, to his amusement, a llama (Atreyu) passing by, heading down the street.

[androgial]

as lucky would have it i had arrived at lucky's just as whitehelm gave his speech, by bullhorn. it was time for my rope skipping training any way so i stopped outside. i liked him he had guts this whitehelm. so i decided to offer him some advice.

" nice speech. you got guts. but id be careful if i were you. the police might not take you seriously unless you can actually do what you talk about, but word on the street is the sycillians have moved into town. they might consider you a threat after that little speech. if youve got powerful friends it might buy you some time, but even powerful friends back off of some one who draws too much attention. think about it ok. id hate for this city to loose some one with guts like you. its just what we need around here. time for me to move on though. cant stop training with the world banterweight title fight comming up. see ya around, oh and watch out for that piano man will ya uncle festy seems to get into a bit of trouble every so often for no reason i can figure out."

i went on my way running through the skipping ropes rythm. training always training. whitehelm may not have heard it but that frank fellow also had a nice speech.[ best post to franks speech ]

[Alarra]

(Since my character is now alone in her apartment, I can't figure a way...plus I'm tired....to tie in an rp point, so I'll just point at Androgial this way...)

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

There is indeed a llama. He's walking around the docks looking for a circus. He doesn't find one right away, but he does find a book on bad plays on words and an acorn that looks like CurlyKitGirl.

[PhantomFox]

Phantom slipped through the foggy streets, unnoticed and ignored. He was Phantom. People looked right through him.He slipped into a bar and managed to get the attention of the barkeep after a couple tries. Taking his drink, he ensconced himself in a chair by the wall and watched people go by. He liked to think that he could tell a lot about a person by looking at them, but he was nothing more than an amature with too much time on his hands. One person struck his eye, and he took another sip as he watched Nom de plum.

[banjo1985]

I checked my pocketwatch as we rounded the corner, 9pm....I was late. The city stretched out across teh valley before us like some leperous boil in desperate need of lancing. I gritted my teeth, though the driver didn't seem to notice...I was kind of glad he didn't turn to me, I managed to keep my unease to myself. I promised myself I'd never come back to this city, but situations change, and sometimes people do to....I'm not sure which one caused this simple man's change of heart.

We drove down to the docks, dirty wooden planks and even dirtier ships jutting out into the sea like rotten teeth. I turned to Jimmy and filled his hand with notes.

"Thanks for drivin' me all the way down here...come pick me up in a week."

He nodded and drove off, leaving me alone and quickly soaking in the drizzle of the early evening. Pulling my coat collar up and hat brim down, I headed for the first building I saw, a shabby looking front of multicoloured boards and faded lettering, not the place I was looking for.

Then a sound in the night gave me a start...an inhuman keening that drilled fear into my very core. I twirled around, grabbing for the hidden holster where my pistol would usually be...a natural reaction, I haven't had a pistol or even a holster for years now.

I needn't have worried, it was just a Llama looking for it's place in life, just like the rest of us. I relaxed and looked at the creature calmly.

"Hey there. I haven't been here for a long time, any idea where I can find a certain little lady?"

[ Best OOC - Helgraf]

[Shishnarfne]

Mr. Narf looked up from his relatively quiet card game... only a few regulars had joined him, exchanging small coins back and forth, waiting for someone who thought they knew how to play to show and provide the real profit. The piano man was attracting attention, but a bad day for one musician could quickly mean bad days for the rest... and that Zar Peter character looked a little bit more suspicious...

Apparently, a reform candidate was running for public office. Well, good luck to them, and their aides... they were going to need it to do anything with this town now...
(best post Freshmeat (Frank) )

[Satyrquaze]

Satyr is aghast to find that his illustrious competiton is running a 20% off sale.

"Of all the nerve! That so-in-so thinks he can..." His language devolves into swearing and muttering as he turns about on his heel and goes back into his shop.

Two minutes later, he comes back out with a large hand-written sign that says:

"All items 25% off"

With that he glares at his competitors shop and makes an indignant noise before returning to the shelter of his own shop.

[topher]

I strolled into Lucky’s on a mission. Word on the street was things were about go down, and I needed to know what and where. I’ve heard many names in the rumors that circulated, but they were just that, rumors. I needed solid info if I was going to help this town, and there was only one man who I knew I could go to for all the information I needed. He wasn’t the sort of man that I would usually associate with, he’d just as soon stab you in the back if another party offered him more, but I was running low on time, and that required sacrifice. Taking the stool next to Jontom, I ordered a whiskey and slid an envelope of cash to my now best friend.
“Tell me what you know.”

[Jontom Xire]

I made the cash disappear like it had never existed, a talent I had developed early on. I also made an estimate of its contents based on weight and thickness.

Taking a sip from my glass to wet my throat I lowered my voice and started talking. I slipped a few questions into the flow, trying to gain a little information from Topher in return. I didn't tell all I knew either. I had learnt to always keep something back. It kept you useful and gave you more to sell later. And I never sold good leads. I'd develop them, explore them, find out more and sell that. If I sold my leads, after all, people could just go and do their own investigating.

[Supagoof]

As the speech from the mayor wannabe died down, I glanced around. He had certainly caught more attention then I think even he would have hoped. I pulled some wax paper and tar from my inner pocket and rolled it up. Bad habit it was, but I found it helped calm my nerves. Odd to think that a fire lit 2 inches from my mouth would have that effect, but hey, the world was a far crazier place, and this city was no exception.

As I inhaled the soothing, a carriage down the street caught my eye. Not so much the carriage mind you, but the dame who stepped from it. Like a splotch of color against the dull undertones of the city, she shone through the crowd like a beacon of light. Focusing on her intently, I noticed she had concern hidden behind the thank you as she paid the driver. It was either the shock the city gave to all new comers, or perhaps the worry of her personal safety, I couldn't be sure which. As quickly as she came, she disappeared. Up the brookstone steps into the apartment she went.

I turned and saw the street vendor drop his prices again. Must really want to close shop early or perhaps to just get rid of the rotting produce he had set out. Soon it would find it's way into the dumpster behind his store. I wondered how long it would take the newsies the raid the garbage, but such was the cycle. Fresh produce was only good for a day or two before it became worthless to sell, then it gets tossed aside for newer more vibrant stock. Meanwhile, the old still edible pieces were picked up by the families with low income. Sure, it didn't have the same taste, but it was better then nothing when it came down to it.

I tipped the ash of my smoke, and started to pace down the street. Catching glances of people as I walked by, every look told a story. Every expression had a meaning. After a while I ended up where I started each day, at the docks. The foremen were taking bids on workers to help with the night shifts, and so I stepped up and waved my hand to be amongst them. Guy like me didn't have much else to do, and money is money. I just needed to be careful not to step on the wrong toes. A father trying to raise money for his kids would sooner punch me in the face then allow me to grab his chance away from him. Fortunately it was familiar faces grasping for the attention of the night foreman, and none of these guys had wives and kids to worry about. Just the motly crew tonight, which was fine by me. I whistled my trademark tune. The foreman knew it at once, and his eye caught mine. A quick nod, and I was on the shift. Perhaps it was my work experience that gained me the trust of the doc foremen. Either that, or perhaps carrying around extra smokes was all a guy needed to grease the wheels. I gave the foreman his customary 3 smokes, enough to last him a night. It worked well, he told his wife he wouldn't buy them anymore, and if I showed up to work, he wouldn't have to lie the next day. It pratically assured me a spot on the night team, which in turn was easy to transition into the morning team as well. I pulled my gloves out from my back pocket and headed to pier 37. Funny how things work in circles, I spent the next 16 hours unloading produce to be sold at the market, with my mind finding its way, from time to time, back to that gal from the cab.....

[Best OOC post - Helgraf Sorry Helgraf, but Mordokai's story just seems to be so intwined with the events unfolding. Perhaps a little too much for his own good, but I like it and will give him the benefit of the doubt for now. ]

((And I change my point to Whithelm, but am too tired to write the post for it. I promise quality over quantity.))

[Timberwolf]

((Yeah, I know this is going to suck... but I don't have time to do a real long post))

Points at...

Phantomfox ?
Jontom ?
Goof ?

Can't make up my mind

Uncle Festy.

[Zar Peter]

((I see it's a tie between Uncle Festy and me. I pointed at him for roleplay (and because he used my role of the last Mafia game. With the same song!!! But I don't want him to die for that. I don't wanna die either but what the heck.))

Zar Peter points at Nom de plum.

[Doseki]

A young boy the age of 12 or 13 was running through the street with a large pile of newspaper for the local shop, you know the one, its opposite Lucky’s. Ya that’s right Satyrquaze's place. All the young boy had was the scrappy cloths on his back and the even worse shoes. He puts them down in front of the store waiting for them to be picked; the headline, “Who’s Going to Lead Us NOW”.

He runs back into the fog, he doesn’t want to stay out late, it had become an unsafe City at anytime of the day but night was the worst and fast approaching. Dark shadows would appear from every alleyway and doorstep. He wished that he could go into the bar. Someone was playing the piano and playing it good. But there was a doorman, an unfriendly doorman to any man that wasn't meant for that bar.

But the young boy wasn’t as innocent as he looked, he knew of other ways of getting into any place in the City. There was always another way.

[Uncle Festy]

and because he used my role of the last Mafia game. With the same song!!!

((

Did - did I actually do that?
Wow. I'm a jerk.
I'm really sorry - I had no clue, or I knew and forgot.
If you want, I can change my role for the game. I'm fine - I can come up with another role.
Oh, and you've lost my point at you, which was only because you pointed at me.))

[Mordokai]

This city has changed. I has changed.

When I have come here, all those years ago, I wasn't all that much different from the rest of the cops of my age. Ideallistic images of cleansing the world of corruption, being a hero to the masses, getting all the girls swoon around me... Vanished, gone up in smoke of thousand cigars, as my lungs remind me so often this days. I really should stop, this stuff will kill me. But, why bother? I'm dead anyway.

Perhaps I look alive on the outside, but there is totally different story on the inside. Where my soul used to be there is now nothing but a big black hole. A hole so big, so hungry, that it sucks anything that comes near it. Every emotion that made me a human being... sucked by the hole, long ago. There went love, pride, happines... the ones that I was supposed to miss. But that was not enought. Slowly, even the “bad“ feeling went after them. There went hate, sorrow, pain, jealousy... well, you get the picture. It all happened so fast, I didn't even noticed it. As hard as that may be to believe. I was nothing but a shell of once promising man, a dead weight on my family and squad. But, perhaps I'm running ahead of myself. Perhaps I should explain few things.

The name is Leroy. Leroy Reman. It's a strange name, but the one my mother gave me and I decided o keep it. Anyway. I was born to a father policeman and so my fate was pretty much sealed the day I poped on this world. I grow up as pretty much any american boy does. Playing footbal at summer, hockey at winter. I had a dog names Spooky. I called him that because one of his eyes was looking at the left, while his other was looking at the right. He was a good dog. Died when I was ten years old. Neighbor shot him when he was drunk. Said he couldn't stand his yapping and that he would shoot me as well if I end up being too smart. I was devastaded by his loos. He was one of my friends. That day, some part of me died along with Spooky.

After getting to collidge and graduating I got the job at our home town. Life was good for few years. The crime wasn't paying of there so I had it easy. Went on a few dates. Met Molly. Married her after few month of dating. We were happy together. Even had a child. Beautiful girl, which we named Jessica, after my mother. I was happy. I should knew it wasn't there to last.

Few month's after Jessica was born my parents died. Not of old age. They were victims of the drunk neighbor. Yes, the same one. He came home one night, even drunker than ever before. When he started beating his wife my mother couldn't take it anymore. She went there and tried to stop him. All she got was broken spine. Dad was next. When he tried to stop him, still mad from grief, he was stabed to death. After finishing his work, Joe(the neighbors name) ran away.

I was out of the city at that time. Police bussines. When I came home, Molly told me what happened. The next thing I remember, I was lying on a bed in restraining jacket. Apparently, I got a very severe mental breakdown and had to be taken in. I remembered nothing.

Few month passed by and I finally came out of looney house. My mind was set on one task. To find Joe and bring him in. I pulled some strings and quickly I got on his trail. I found him in a sleazy bordel where he was hidding himself for last few months. Perhaps I overdid it. I remember some red fog and when everything became clear again Joe was laying there, more dead than alive. He died few hours later, in a hospital. Internal lacerations with blood flowing freely all over the place, doctors said. They could do absolutely nothing for him.

Needles to say, that didn't work well for my career. I was transported into this sleezy town. The brass said it was a “reward for bringing a dangerous fellow to the justice“. Well, if this is a reward, I shudder to think what punishment would look like.

When I got here I was lost. I started drinking. I found myself some company of like minded individuals. That was perhaps the biggest mistake I ever made. Turned out the guys were woking for FOP. The first thing that should strike me as odd was probably the distinct lack of any emotion when I found that out. Few years back, I'd walk away from the whole thing. Now, I just aksed how to join. Stupid? Moronic. But I did it anyway. I have no excuses for that.

For few months, things went more or less smoothly. I made some money, had a sort of purpose to my life and “friends“. But I was loosing everything else. Molly was worried for me. I never told her anything, but she somehow knew. The wife always does. When she found out some evidences she pleaded with me.to quit. I couldn't say no to her. I loved her too much.

When I told Kingmaker about my decision he wasn't thrilled. But surprisingly enought, he left me go. Without giving me much troubles. The last thing he said to me, before I walked out the doors was “You'll come back. Everybody does.“. He then send me on my last job. Said I own that much to him, for everything he did for me. So I went to do it, happy that soon everything would be over.

It was night when I returned home. Everything seemed normal. The lights were on, the doors were closed... I walked in the house, without suspecting anything. As soon as I stepped in something heavy feel on my head and I went out.

When I woke up I was bound and gaged iyn my living room. In front of me, Molly and Jessica were laying on floors, pretty much for the same as I was. Behind the, the rest of the FOP was standing. My “friends“. After a short explanation that nobody leaves once he gets in I was given savage beating and after few minutes of it, I passed out once again.

Once I woke up the world was a blur. I was sore all over and it took me half an hour just to get up. My ties have been cut and my gag has been removed. When I looked around it, the red fog was once again there. And there, in the middle of it, they were. Molly and Jessica. My two special girls. Wih their throats open and their blood on the floor. This was too much! I felt down and cried there. When I shed my last tear the Leroy everybody knew before was gone and I was all that was left of him. A lifeless husk, bound to wonder the city until he finds the one who did this horrible crime.

The last beating wiped my memory clean of the identies of FOP. All I can hope now is that something, some item... will help me remember. As I wonder the city, the guy who proclaims himself as a saviour of the town starts rabbling something about cleaning the mess that is this town. I don' know if I should believe him, but I'm certainly going to keep my eyes on this whitehelm guy.

[Dr. Bath]

Heh. Another story of a man lost and forgotten in this God forsaken cesspit of a city? Sounds familiar, right? Yeah. Guess you can't get away from it, really. 'Specially with the elections coming up. All the furore. And what for? I dunno. It only means people start to talk more. Talk about getting rid of 'the immigrants'. Like me.

I don't see what we've done wrong. We're just tryin' to get by, like everyone else. I saw a guy with a banjo the other day, gave me the dirtiest look I ever did see. That's from a hobo. They say we took the jobs, started the gangs, ruined the city. But they were already here. It's just fresh blood makes the whole thing worse.

Everyone's hungry. Hungry for money. Hungry for fame. Hungry for power.

[Nom_de_Plume]

(( work is too busy to post an ic response, but I don't want to idle either. So for the time being, I point at Atreyu the Masked Llama.

and Helgraf. ))

[Lamech]

Umm... I think I might be allergic to Masked Llama.

[PirateMonk]

A man hurries out of a building into the streets, jogging down the street. He glances at radikalskippy as he goes.

[Xykon_Fan]

A dark, hooded figure walks down the sidewalk in the cold, heartless city muttering to itself. Cthulhu fhtagn

A dark, hooded figure walks down a sidewalk in the cold, heartless city. Cool night air rushes briskly against his face. He feels cold, the same cold a thousand stars share with him on this night. He doesn't mind. He turns a corner and stares into a dark doorway. He looks around him before he enters, and sees Timberwolf. After that, he disappears into the doorway.