The Widowed
06-26-2005, 07:23 AM
aren't so contaminated with bad politics. Yeh, I think I'm pulling an Alumette. The City Hall, Asylum and Party Place can go sail for all I care. I just need to be there for my supergroups, and at present this is the best way to reach out to everyone in them. Besides, Nyx and Frost need me to keep the "Darkest Light" and "Ask Uncle Mischief" topics from dying off, right? Anyway....]
Memo from the desk of Bloodywedd
Attention, all Malice in Wonderland members:
"Malice in Wonderland members" does sound kind of wordy-gurdy, doesn't it? Mind if I just call you guys "my droogies" instead? Great. Thanks.
Allow me to introduce you droogies to a new barrel of fun: Pierre Ladron. He's the pigeon of the month, and we're going to squeeze that pigeon till he pinches out a golden egg...one that he stole from us in the first place.
http://img160.echo.cx/img160/9997/Ladron1.jpghttp://img160.echo.cx/img160/9652/Ladron2.jpg
http://img160.echo.cx/img160/6530/Pierre3.jpg
Ooh, Pete. Cheap glasses, bad tie and that jacket's looking a bit threadbare. What have you been doing with all the money you've been skimming from us, anyway? It's certainly not going into your wardrobe.
You see, Pierre Ladron's the guy we've been going through to keep the feds from tracing our ill-gotten rewards back to us. If we want to acquire something, he'll sneak it in for us. If we want to launder our cash, he'll run the funds through some bogus real estate purchase in some third-world country that nobody cares about. Like France.
The problem with hiring guys like this is that the stupid ones tend to get greedy. And our friend Pierre is one of the stupid ones. All this time he was skimming cash off the money laundering--mostly by lying about international monetary conversion rates, thinking that we'd never check the numbers ourselves--and pocketting some of the imports that were meant for us. "The Crowley Ring never got to the ship. I'll take the next banana boat over to France and see what happened to it." Blah blah blah. He took the ring to First National Pawnbrokers, that's what happened to it. And once I figured out he was being less than honest with us, it wasn't much later that I figured out what kind of racket he had set up. Bad news is, that wasn't much later after Pierre went for broke and figured he'd cheat us out of a whole paycheck.
See, he'd been skimming and skimming and skimming his little heart out, and so I rechecked the books and found out that he's into us for about fifty-thousand. The last shipment of goods was on a ship which blew through a storm in the North Atlantic. Pierre thought he could just pocket all five baubles and tell us that the crate they were in got sloshed off the deck when the typhoons hit. Too bad for him that I'm a psychotic psychic and--being suspicious as I was--I knew exactly what the story was. He had the good sense to bolt for the door before I got too close.
So I learned from that encounter that his intention is to meet with one of his contacts in the smuggling business--one Jean Paul DeLorraine--to arrange transport of our treasures out of the country. What our man Pierre doesn't know is that Monsieur DeLorraine won't be able to keep his appointment, seeing as DeLorraine somehow accidentally bound himself hand and foot with duct tape, locked himself inside the trunk of an old Monte Carlo and drove it off an embankment into the Red River. Tragic, really.
So the time for the rendezvous was to be Sunday, July 3rd, shortly after 8:00 PM Central. Now, Pierre didn't stay in the business this long by being patently obvious. The confidential instructions which DeLorraine was keeping safe inside his vest pocket for me (not long before his tragic accident) are written in Pierre's typical riddling style:
[Translated from French]
"Until the clock strikes eight, I shall be well-hidden on Major Flanders' crown as he peers across the city of nebulas and constellations. Come that time, from there I shall walk the most indirect route to the place of our meeting, where the twins pay witness to the stories of heroes. Wait for me there; You shall recognize me by my blue beret and green jacket. To avoid undue attention to myself, I shall not sprint madly to our conference, nor shall I attack the scoundrels who litter the streets unless I am fired on first, and I shall forsake those streets and boulevards for the lots and alleyways.
Alas, in this endeavor I have betrayed the Malice in Wonderland gang, and I rightly fear discovery and retaliation. If they should confront me, I shall be forced to run for my own safety and seek shelter where friends draw arms against friends. Should any of their gang be planted squarely in my path, I shall be forced to turn away and flee via another path. Should they surround me and ensnare me away from the spires of the gladiators, they would wrest my treasures away and deny me even a last stand for my freedom. This I cannot allow, my friend.
I wish us well and hope that we can do business together.
--Msr. Ladron
Sorry, Pete, but I'm afraid we'll have to disappoint you. Or at least my droogies will. I'll be off getting dental caps which may or may not be for the alteration of my dental records.
So it's up to you guys to catch Pierre and make him cough up fifty grand and five magic trinkets. Needless to say, the more droogies we have showing up for this, the greater the likelihood of Pierre taking a dive. My advice is to find which municipality he's in, split up and comb the streets till you find him, then alert the rest of the gang, coordinate with each other and try to stop him from fleeing.
The trinkets are mine, but the fifty grand can be split up however you guys want it. There will even be a promotion in line if I get all of my trinkets back; You guys can decide among yourselves who among all the droogies present at the time is most worthy of getting ahead.
Oh, yeah...and feel free to do whatever you want to Pierre afterwards. He's a bastard and he deserves it. Treasure the memories; Don't take photos for the cops to find later. Capisce?
So grab your nets and go stop this pigeon, my droogies. I'll keep in touch.
--B
(As you might expect, Local-chat roleplaying is encouraged. Be ready to spit out things like "You have nowhere to run, Ladron!" and "Give up the goods or I might have to get rough". And if you decide to kill Pierre or rough him up or push him off a cliff or whatever, try to save it for after the chase. :rolleyes: Text emotes and action emotes alike can help with this, and feel free to set up text macros like how I showed you in the Combat Chatter thread.)
(Burbie, if you want Miss Judgement to join Malice in Wonderland, you can consider this her entrance exam. The other members of Malice will put their heads together and decide how well you did. After the gang's done with Pierre, Bloodywedd will make her entrance (a little worse for wear after getting some teeth doctored) to retrieve her DO Ennies and handle any new memberships and/or promotions. Any questions?)
Memo from the desk of Bloodywedd
Attention, all Malice in Wonderland members:
"Malice in Wonderland members" does sound kind of wordy-gurdy, doesn't it? Mind if I just call you guys "my droogies" instead? Great. Thanks.
Allow me to introduce you droogies to a new barrel of fun: Pierre Ladron. He's the pigeon of the month, and we're going to squeeze that pigeon till he pinches out a golden egg...one that he stole from us in the first place.
http://img160.echo.cx/img160/9997/Ladron1.jpghttp://img160.echo.cx/img160/9652/Ladron2.jpg
http://img160.echo.cx/img160/6530/Pierre3.jpg
Ooh, Pete. Cheap glasses, bad tie and that jacket's looking a bit threadbare. What have you been doing with all the money you've been skimming from us, anyway? It's certainly not going into your wardrobe.
You see, Pierre Ladron's the guy we've been going through to keep the feds from tracing our ill-gotten rewards back to us. If we want to acquire something, he'll sneak it in for us. If we want to launder our cash, he'll run the funds through some bogus real estate purchase in some third-world country that nobody cares about. Like France.
The problem with hiring guys like this is that the stupid ones tend to get greedy. And our friend Pierre is one of the stupid ones. All this time he was skimming cash off the money laundering--mostly by lying about international monetary conversion rates, thinking that we'd never check the numbers ourselves--and pocketting some of the imports that were meant for us. "The Crowley Ring never got to the ship. I'll take the next banana boat over to France and see what happened to it." Blah blah blah. He took the ring to First National Pawnbrokers, that's what happened to it. And once I figured out he was being less than honest with us, it wasn't much later that I figured out what kind of racket he had set up. Bad news is, that wasn't much later after Pierre went for broke and figured he'd cheat us out of a whole paycheck.
See, he'd been skimming and skimming and skimming his little heart out, and so I rechecked the books and found out that he's into us for about fifty-thousand. The last shipment of goods was on a ship which blew through a storm in the North Atlantic. Pierre thought he could just pocket all five baubles and tell us that the crate they were in got sloshed off the deck when the typhoons hit. Too bad for him that I'm a psychotic psychic and--being suspicious as I was--I knew exactly what the story was. He had the good sense to bolt for the door before I got too close.
So I learned from that encounter that his intention is to meet with one of his contacts in the smuggling business--one Jean Paul DeLorraine--to arrange transport of our treasures out of the country. What our man Pierre doesn't know is that Monsieur DeLorraine won't be able to keep his appointment, seeing as DeLorraine somehow accidentally bound himself hand and foot with duct tape, locked himself inside the trunk of an old Monte Carlo and drove it off an embankment into the Red River. Tragic, really.
So the time for the rendezvous was to be Sunday, July 3rd, shortly after 8:00 PM Central. Now, Pierre didn't stay in the business this long by being patently obvious. The confidential instructions which DeLorraine was keeping safe inside his vest pocket for me (not long before his tragic accident) are written in Pierre's typical riddling style:
[Translated from French]
"Until the clock strikes eight, I shall be well-hidden on Major Flanders' crown as he peers across the city of nebulas and constellations. Come that time, from there I shall walk the most indirect route to the place of our meeting, where the twins pay witness to the stories of heroes. Wait for me there; You shall recognize me by my blue beret and green jacket. To avoid undue attention to myself, I shall not sprint madly to our conference, nor shall I attack the scoundrels who litter the streets unless I am fired on first, and I shall forsake those streets and boulevards for the lots and alleyways.
Alas, in this endeavor I have betrayed the Malice in Wonderland gang, and I rightly fear discovery and retaliation. If they should confront me, I shall be forced to run for my own safety and seek shelter where friends draw arms against friends. Should any of their gang be planted squarely in my path, I shall be forced to turn away and flee via another path. Should they surround me and ensnare me away from the spires of the gladiators, they would wrest my treasures away and deny me even a last stand for my freedom. This I cannot allow, my friend.
I wish us well and hope that we can do business together.
--Msr. Ladron
Sorry, Pete, but I'm afraid we'll have to disappoint you. Or at least my droogies will. I'll be off getting dental caps which may or may not be for the alteration of my dental records.
So it's up to you guys to catch Pierre and make him cough up fifty grand and five magic trinkets. Needless to say, the more droogies we have showing up for this, the greater the likelihood of Pierre taking a dive. My advice is to find which municipality he's in, split up and comb the streets till you find him, then alert the rest of the gang, coordinate with each other and try to stop him from fleeing.
The trinkets are mine, but the fifty grand can be split up however you guys want it. There will even be a promotion in line if I get all of my trinkets back; You guys can decide among yourselves who among all the droogies present at the time is most worthy of getting ahead.
Oh, yeah...and feel free to do whatever you want to Pierre afterwards. He's a bastard and he deserves it. Treasure the memories; Don't take photos for the cops to find later. Capisce?
So grab your nets and go stop this pigeon, my droogies. I'll keep in touch.
--B
(As you might expect, Local-chat roleplaying is encouraged. Be ready to spit out things like "You have nowhere to run, Ladron!" and "Give up the goods or I might have to get rough". And if you decide to kill Pierre or rough him up or push him off a cliff or whatever, try to save it for after the chase. :rolleyes: Text emotes and action emotes alike can help with this, and feel free to set up text macros like how I showed you in the Combat Chatter thread.)
(Burbie, if you want Miss Judgement to join Malice in Wonderland, you can consider this her entrance exam. The other members of Malice will put their heads together and decide how well you did. After the gang's done with Pierre, Bloodywedd will make her entrance (a little worse for wear after getting some teeth doctored) to retrieve her DO Ennies and handle any new memberships and/or promotions. Any questions?)