Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: HairyHeretic on 17-08-2015, 00:11:34</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HairyHeretic</strong> on <strong>17-08-2015, 00:11:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was rumoured to be the event of the social season. Sir Peter Ramsay, famed Fellow of the Royal Exploratory Society is to be the guest of honour at the estate of socialite Amelia Linbergh. Anyone who is anyone, or hopes to be anyone, will be there, with politicians mingling with business tycoons, movie stars with money makers, the great and the powerful exchaing polite chatter and venomous insults over canapes and glasses of champagne.<br><br>Rumour has it that Sir Peter will be doing a private showing of artifacts recently unearthed in a dig in Burma, and some say that Linbergh will ask the famed medium Valeriya Romanova, there at her personal invitation, to reach back into the mists of time, and speak with spirits long lost.<br><br>It promises to be an interesting night.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AndyZ</strong> on <strong>17-08-2015, 02:41:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/1/17/Aori_Kisaragi.jpg)</div><br>No one really knew how Aori kept showing up to these high society affairs.&nbsp; Certainly she wasn't invited, but a few years of experience had taught the socialites that simply leaving her alone tended to work better than attempting to remove her by force.<br><br>Tonight's jeans had holes worn through the knees, revealing just enough shaved leg beneath to catch the attention.&nbsp; It almost seemed to be a peace offering that she wore a white sweater, because white got dirty so easily...unless it was a dare.<br><br>She found herself a seat on a chaise lounge next to a pretty young woman who sat beside an older gentleman, glass of champagne gripped in hand.&nbsp; "So what's the celebration?"<br><br>The blonde offered the sort of snooty grimace that came from being born with a silver spoon in your mouth and refusing to learn to accept the taste of anything else.&nbsp; She turned to the man beside her.&nbsp; "Husband, wouldn't you like to see some of the other rooms?"<br><br>"Husband, huh?"&nbsp; Aori leaned forward to look at the man, who joined his wife in a sour visage.&nbsp; "He can follow and watch if you want; I don't mind."<br><br>Scorn transformed to aghast disgust as the blonde peered over her nose at Aori.&nbsp; "You really are a perverse and wretched thing, aren't you?"<br><br>Aori just smiled, raising her hands in a "What can you do?" gesture.&nbsp; "That's what Mom says, anyway."<br><br>The husband soon stood, leading his wife away by the hand and softly trembling with fury.&nbsp; Aori kicked up her boots onto the chaise lounge, laying back against the armrest.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>17-08-2015, 05:29:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/51/Ami01.jpg)</div><strong>Who:</strong> Ami Ellison<br><strong>Where:</strong> Amelia Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tags:</strong> Open<br><br>Ami had never been to Singapore before and frankly she would be fine never coming back.&nbsp; It was, in a word…sticky.&nbsp; Her hair stuck to her skin and her skin to her clothes.&nbsp; Dirt and filth stuck to everything, while creeping vines stuck to every building slowly crushing the city from within and without.&nbsp; The humidity was oppressive as were the number of urchins overflowing from alleys and clogging the markets.&nbsp; <br><br>Still the Professor of Antiquities had insisted she make the trip to authenticate Sir Peter’s findings.&nbsp; Ami had been aware of her birthright long enough to read fate in the most mundane of things.&nbsp; After her third attempt at avoiding the trip she had given up and accepted that she was needed here whether she liked it or not.&nbsp; So far not was winning.<br><br>Amelia Linbergh’s estate was at least an oasis from the sticky.&nbsp; Dressed in a crisp white cheongsam Ami’s long midnight hair was rolled and pinned, Vivian Leigh-like in its perfection.&nbsp; She was the very images of Chinese grace and American glamour.&nbsp; She much preferred her tweed and horn-rimmed glasses.&nbsp; The “gift” of her auspicious birth really make her glasses an affectation&nbsp; as opposed to a necessity, but she had gotten so used to wearing them that she felt positively naked not having something to push up the tip of her nose with an unoccupied finger.<br><br>To occupy her idle hands she retrieved a tapered flute of rice wine as it passed on a silver tray that could feed a pour family for a year and took a sip letting the sweet chill coat her lotus flower lips.&nbsp; She had arrived too early. An early escape was not to be.&nbsp; A smudge of pink stuck to the lip of the glass when it pulled away.<br><br>Ami sighed.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Keidance</strong> on <strong>17-08-2015, 22:44:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"></span><div class="floatright">(http://i87.photobucket.com/albums/k132/BriBla/Sister%20Maria%20Lucia_zps30ottdjs.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>:&nbsp; Maria Lucia &nbsp;(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11550235#msg11550235)<br><strong>Location</strong>: The Estate of Amelia Linbergh<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Open<br><strong>Content</strong>:&nbsp; Arrival (vanilla, so vanilla it's still in the pod) <br><br><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><em>Perhaps Father Ignacio is not as good a man, as I believed him to be. </em><br><br>Maria Lucia's personal thoughts remained masked behind large atramentous wells considered eyes of hers, masked even as her fingertips rose to itch at the thick woolen lines of the habit that adorned her delicate frame. Careful to avoid using her nails, but the rub was vicious enough to make a fleeting expression of relief pass upon her dusky features as sacchariferous that for a moment? She looked radiant in her relief. Sadly the fleeting sensation of relief as well as the expression were both short lived as Mrs. Vivian Aster would snap her fan at the young nun that the Sister's of Mercy had sent her as escort for the evening. <br><br><em><strong>"Stop that immediately, do you wish them to think you have fleas? My goodness, Sister, the embarrassment is bad enough that they did not have the wisdom to at least send one of the younger sister's to see to my needs. Or at the least one who can pass."</strong></em> came the indignant huff from the festively adorned Lady upon her chair.<br><br><em><strong>"My apologies, Mrs. Aster. Of course, on all accounts. But Sister Joan had taken ill, so there was none left to see to your comforts. "</strong></em> Somehow, Maria Lucia managed to sound contrite even diffident to the woman who glowered at her. <br><br>After all, someone as impressively sized and bedecked in gems and jewels could not possibly be forced to ambulate on her own accord. Instead? Like a maharajah the opulent woman rested in a contraption of wicker and brass. The fact Lucia in her habit wondered if the wicker was transmuted with some metal of miracles? Now that was another matter all together. Either way, the small form pushing the Beast of a woman did invoke the battle of Sisyphus and the stone she was sure. The fact that he tricked the Gods to earn his punishment provided it's own subtle humor as she grunted shoving Mrs. Astor where she was directed to by the lofted wave of fan. <br><br><em>When he requires my assistance the next time, I shall.. </em><br><br>Of course the myriad of thoughts of her inevitable vengeance would flow through the faux Nun's mind. But she could not deny either that it was the perfect disguise to slip into a country under the veil of good deeds. Nor could she deny that the habit and the long voluminous billowing tent of itch created a visage that most would over look, after all she was merely glorified help was she not? A companion to an obnoxiously gluttonous woman whose husband was making money hands over fist&nbsp; creating instruments that would cause nothing but murder and mayhem, all the while spending his blood money in ways that would scandalize most polite society. But when was society ever polite? The glimmer of sweat that shined the body underneath the blacks was cooling her body, pity it couldn't soothe the temper. <em>Oh Iggy, how you will sin!</em> Became a running melody through her mind as she savored the thought of it. <br><br><em><strong>"Be a darling gem, Sister and fetch me some num num's, and a glass or two. I am simply parched...Oh Oh! Theodore, you handsome devil you, come come, give Auntie Aster a kiss..." </strong></em>Maria's dark eyes widened only slightly as she turned her head downwards to let the black side of the habit cover where the white fabric framed. One hand rising to the crucifix she wore as&nbsp; the dark fingers began plucking over the side of it, scraping nail back and forth as she contemplated how she might be able to end her own suffering now and create a vision of despicable debauchery if only it would silence that woman's indefatigable way of finding tones that even dogs would have a hard time hearing. <br><br>She managed a look of absolute reverence and care towards her beast of a patient as she dipped her head in incline. No need to expand upon it more or to murmur the expected <em>"As you wish, Madam."</em> The Beast already had her talons aimed for Theodore the poor bastard. Lucia managed at the least not to chuckle or make eye-contact as the poor middle age man sloughed over towards the Beast upon her throne, ready to devour him or at the least drown him in gossip and scandals.&nbsp; Eyes turned away from the display, as she noted the different groupings forming as others entered. As of yet, she had not heard the one she sought name mentioned and the clearance from the Beast allowed her time to drift towards the back of the room slipping towards the refreshments poised on server's tray. Now to make it to that tray and back without encountering a myriad of scenarios she wished not to navigate. </span><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HairyHeretic</strong> on <strong>18-08-2015, 00:44:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/4/43/Bfi-00n-g67.jpg)</div><strong>Who:</strong> Juan Sánchez Villa-Lobos Ramírez<br><strong>Where:</strong> Outside the Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tags:</strong> Any<br><br>Ramírez stood some distance back from the wall surrounding the estate, watching the traffic flowing in as the sun set, leaving the horizon burning with flares of gold, red and orange. He idly scratched at his chin as he considered his options. One of his contacts, a drunken reprobate called Wu, who claimed to be a wandering Fangshi, had told him that something was going on in there tonight.<br><br><em>"The spirits are unsettled my friend." he had said, gesturing with a wide swing that almost collided with a waitress going past. "Something calls to the 9th Court, something dark and terrible, red and black and hungry for souls."</em><br><br>He had made Ramírez swear to investigate it, find out what the danger was, and put a stop to it. That was why he was standing under an awning, staring at the well lit building off in the distance.<br><br>"Are we no gonna go and do something tonight?" came a very faint voice from inside his jacket pocket. "It's boring in here.". Ramírez let his gaze drift back and forth, ensuring no one was close enough to overhear anything he might say. He wasn't worried about anyone overhearing the other side of the conversation, but a man talking to a silver hip flask tended to be looked upon disfavorably by the local police, and as amusing as it would be to run them around town a while, he did have more important things to do tonight. Now that he was looking at the building he was getting a faint sense of unease himself.<br><br>"Looks like Wu was right after all." he murmured.<br><br>"Who?"<br>"No, ye bampot, Wu."<br>"What?"<br>"Who?"<br>"Wu!"<br>"Wu who?<br>"What?"<br>"Ach, crivens."<br><br>The chorus of voices was replaced by faint sounds of brawling, and the hip flask twitched in his hand. Ramírez took a deep breath, opening the lid and blowing softly across it. All sound within ceased.<br><br>"Keep it down in there." he murmured, raising the flask to his lips and pretending to drink. "I need to think."<br><br>"It gets easier wi' practice." came a reply from inside the flask.<br>"How would you know, you've never bothered wi' thinking either." interjected a second, and moments later the flask once again echoed to the sounds of muted brawling.<br><br>Ramírez shook his head, capping the flask and tucking it away, muttering a string of curses in at least 4 languages and tried to figure out what would be his best way of getting into the latest place he had absolutely no business being in.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AndyZ</strong> on <strong>19-08-2015, 00:05:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/1/17/Aori_Kisaragi.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Aori Kisaragi (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11513712#msg11513712)<br><strong>Location: </strong> Inside the Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tags:</strong> Ami Ellison (Maria Lucia mentioned)<br><br>After a few good swigs of the glass, Aori glanced around the room from her comfortable spot of lying across the chaise lounge.&nbsp; A few interesting people caught her attention, though they were pretending to ignore her for the time being.&nbsp; Let them get some more alcohol in them and she could get this place properly lively.<br><br>Apparently a nun was here as well.&nbsp; A nun?&nbsp; Interesting.&nbsp; Granted, past experience had taught her that attempting to proposition a nun was usually a waste of time, but she sure seemed to have that certain something that caught the eye...<br><br>A sigh, however, was much quicker to catch her attention.&nbsp; Offering a smile, Aori rolled her eyes towards the woman wearing glasses.&nbsp; "Bored already?" she asked.&nbsp; "Or just upset about something else?"&nbsp; She didn't even bother to get up, either oblivious to the rules of polite society or outright ignoring them.&nbsp; Her demeanor, however, suggested it was more her nature and not a direct insult to the other woman.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Foxy DeVille</strong> on <strong>19-08-2015, 06:31:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/60/Dame.jpg)</div><strong>Who:</strong> The Dame (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11509666#msg11509666)<br><strong>Where:</strong> The Linbergh Estate<br><strong>Tags:</strong> Open<br><br>Singapore wasn't the usual stomping grounds for the Dame but it didn't show the way she waltzed into the room like she owned the joint. The blonde was dressed in white, maybe to match the Persian cat that tagged along beside her. With all the bigwigs and beautiful people, it didn't seem that different from LA. The Dame getting smiles and nods from the men in the room. A few she recognized even though they couldn't return the favor thanks to a little mumbo jumbo on her part. An actor who had been blackmailed, an industrialist with a bit of a foreign spy problem... the Dame had sorted it out even if nobody knew she had. That was how she liked it.<br><br>Right now the Dame wasn't on a case. She simply figured with all these society types in one place something interesting was bound to happen. Maybe it was just a hunch but her hunches had a habit of being dead on. The Dame grabbed a glass of bubbly from a passing tray and waited. The pieces in this game would show themselves in due time. And then the Dame would make her play. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Joel</strong> on <strong>19-08-2015, 09:01:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/Pc5z3M2.jpg)</div><strong>Who:</strong> Viktor Grekov (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11513440#msg11513440)<br><strong>Where:</strong> Inside the Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Thread Summary:</strong> tl;dr just blah blah entrance.&nbsp; will get to actually responding to folks in a short follow up.<br><strong>Tags:</strong> Open<br><hr><br>Mrs. Win Min Tully (http://i2.listal.com/image/2763101/600full-win-min-than.jpg), or Emilia as she is often known amongst the Rangoon parlors of British Colonial Burma, was a precocious child born to Constantine Taylor, of the Empire Airfreight company, and Ang Su Taylor, a socialite and daughter of a prominent colonial administrator.&nbsp; Win Min Taylor was never the son that her father wanted, nor was she, as the only child, the expected heir to her father's business.&nbsp; It was not to say that she was loathed by her family, but Win Min, born with a silver spoon in her mouth and never wanting for anything in her life, still came to despise her father for denying her the one true thing that she felt entitled to.&nbsp; <br><br>In 1932, Win Min became engaged to William Tully, an English business associate of her father.&nbsp; It was an arrangement that had more to do with her father's legacy than with Win Min's happiness, because the senior Mr. Taylor gladly embraced his future son-in-law and was prepared to bequeath the business to that man.&nbsp; For Win Min this meant that her father placed greater trust in a stranger over his own flesh-and-blood, and that proved to be the final straw.<br><br>Unbeknownst to her family and long before her engagement, Win Min had been involved in a private affair with the young lawyer of Mr. William Tully.&nbsp; Thomas Larkin, esquire was a secret member of the Comintern (Communist International), amongst other things, but had fallen out of favor in some London circles for his less radical views.&nbsp; Forced to field his career in distant Indochina, Mr. Larkin ultimately met Win Min through an unwitting Mr. Tully.&nbsp; Impassioned and handsome, Mr. Larkin quickly won the heart of Win Min Taylor.&nbsp; <br><br>It had not taken long for Mr. Larkin to recruit Win Min to his private cause as Win Min, disillusioned with a rigid society that cast her as second rate, was already highly susceptible to the egalitarian ideals of the communist movement.&nbsp; Moreover, Mr. Larkin who was awash in the increasing sterility of the modern world, invited Win Min to embrace her distant Burmese heritage, which he as a Londoner long exoticised.&nbsp; <br><br>There really was no reason why the politburo would have any interest in Thomas Larkin or Win Min Taylor except for the fact that Empire Airfreight made rapid deliveries between ports in the South China Sea and the Strait of Malacca, which comprised the strategic byway for all non-Soviet oil transported to Japan.&nbsp; Knowing British and French control over the South East was eroding, and also needing a palatable success after the disastrous bid in China, the politburo had dispatched sedition agents into the region.&nbsp; However, these agents were hampered by great distances and primitive infrastructure, and planners reasoned that clandestine efforts would be greatly accelerated if they had access to air transport.<br><br>Contacted by the Soviets, Win Min and Thomas Larkin agreed to assist in the People's Cause.&nbsp; The plan was very simple, which was what Viktor preferred.&nbsp; Win Min married William Tully that following Spring at a well attended ceremony in Rangoon.&nbsp; Shortly after, the senior Mr. Taylor officially willed his controlling shares in Empire Airfreight Incorporated to Mr. Larkin.&nbsp; At which point, Mr. Larkin, esquire, advised his client, Mr. Tully to create a provisional will placing his new wife as sole inheritor.&nbsp; <br><br>As one would imagine, the senior Mr. Taylor met a sudden and unexpected end when he boarded a sabotaged aircraft for Hong Kong.&nbsp; Then not long after, Mr. Tully was murdered by Mr. Larkin under encouragement by Soviet agents, surely under the impression that the crime would be covered up his supposed Soviet supporters.&nbsp; Win Min, however, had since discovered her real volition through the help of her NKVD contact, Viktor Grekov, who offered not only a more interesting lover, but also the promise of absolute control over what she had always expected to have.&nbsp; Playing the victim of an insane man's obsession, Win Min sold her former lover, Mr. Larkin up the river and then with a heavy heart, ascended to the helm of her father's enterprise.<br><br><div align="center">***</div><br>A wealthy magnate of the region, Mrs. Win Min Tully often received invitations to rarefied social gatherings throughout the British Orient, and as a partial patron of Sir Peter Ramsay's excavations in Burma, it would have been rude of her not to attend the famed archeologist's private exhibition.&nbsp; Besides, Empire Airfreight had provided much of the transportation, gratis, for the intrepid explorer.&nbsp; <br><br>Preferring that Mrs. Win Min Tully believe he was attending this event at her behest, Viktor Grekov had arrived in Singapore one day prior aboard the Black Sea tanker, Usury.&nbsp; Of course, Viktor had only boarded the Usury in Indonesia after arriving by plane from other matters in Europe, but details were beside the point.&nbsp; It was better that Mrs. Tully remained uncertain what Viktor's actual associations were with the USSR. <br><br>Here at the British port, Viktor maintained an identity as Ukrainian oil trader and a business associate of Mrs. Win Min Tully.&nbsp; Since his arrival, the pair had spent the day and the prior evening entirely closed off from the world, hidden on a private estate in the woodland hills of Yishun, not an hours drive from the city.<br><br>When finally emerging from their woodland retreat, they had been driven to the Lindberg estate reasonably early and perhaps with Mrs. Tully's expectation that they depart early as well.&nbsp; Viktor, however, had other plans.&nbsp; <br><br>His quiet gaze swept the manicured grounds around the rotunda, while black sedans continued to arrive in slow by steady synchrony, their tires crushing the raked pea gravel beneath as chauffeurs hastened to open doors for their provincial lords and ladies adorned in black tie or silken, oriental evening gowns.&nbsp; From afar, Viktor took note of the shadowy shape of Mr. Ramírez, loping just beyond the sharp headlights of the approaching cars or the more pleasing glow cast by the numerous lanterns.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>"Mr. Grekov?" asked the estate footman, offering a platter of champaign even before they had entered the manor itself.&nbsp; The colonies were uninhibited by decorum, or so he was told.<br><br>"Thank you," he answered, plucking a fluted glass from the tray and meeting it in cheers with Mrs. Tully.&nbsp; <br><br>She was dressed tonight in a cheongsam of midday ivory, embroidered with peonies of obsidian black that drifted over her Junoesque body like cloud work burned into a sun flashed eye.&nbsp; In respects to her Burmese heritage, distantly royal no doubt, she kept her hair long but gathered in a luscious, bun behind her neck and her crown coifed in a wavy style suggestive of the Los Angeles starlets. <br><br>Viktor gave her his arm, and together they entered the manor.&nbsp; He was dressed in black tie, a bourgeois affection that had disappeared from his motherland not long after the Revolution.&nbsp; The tailored fabric fitted him well, distracting from the brutish thickness of his form by accentuating the broad cut of his shoulders and long taper of his trousers.&nbsp; His lapels were classic, but lined in a midnight black silk.&nbsp; Despite the formality, he dispensed with a bowtie for a straight black tie and likewise felt just as comfortable in an impeccably pressed, white dress shirt.&nbsp; They were choices undoubtedly chosen for him by Mrs. Tully, who paid far more attention to Hollywood couture than did Mr. Viktor Grekov.&nbsp; <br><br>Tonight he was her New York gangster, if only just a poor facsimile.&nbsp; Still the man bore an interesting set of scars over he eye, fashionably subtle as if he had asked the German soldier, decades ago, to cut him just so for future posterity.&nbsp; More to the point, Mr. Victor Grekov did not entirely fit the role as an oil trader, there was clearly something far too intimidating about his persona, adversarial and not at all diplomatic as would a businessman require.&nbsp; But then again, it was impolite to ask about the War.</div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Crash</strong> on <strong>20-08-2015, 04:36:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/51/Ami01.jpg)</div><strong>Who:</strong> Ami Ellison<br><strong>Where:</strong> Amelia Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tags:</strong> Aori<br><br>Aori’s question was greeted with the fine line of an arched brow.&nbsp; While pretty the girl looked sorely out of place.&nbsp; She was not urchin, her sweater to clean and her jeans while worn had been expensive at some point.&nbsp; At the same time she was hardly a guest.&nbsp; The way the flow of what qualified for Singapore’s social elite subtly avoided the chaise lounge like children avoiding a haunted house was an unconscious indication that the endowed young woman was undesirable and to be avoided.<br><br>“I would rather be elsewhere.”&nbsp; It was real enough an answer.&nbsp; Social leper or no, Ami had about as much in common with the Pariah as she did with the insufferable British royalty. <br><br>“You on the other hand look quite happy right where you are.”&nbsp; Ami observed getting a look of distaste from a matronly woman and her handlebar mustachoed husband.&nbsp; Aside from the pristine silken cheongsam and perfectly manicured hair Ami was little more a servant to these people.&nbsp; It wasn’t who she was, but what she had to offer that made her of value so the look did little to disturb the librarian.&nbsp; <br><br>Lips met chilled wine again leaving morning dew on the stigma of her mouth. It was the only comfortable chill in the gods forsaken place.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AndyZ</strong> on <strong>20-08-2015, 10:15:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/1/17/Aori_Kisaragi.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Aori Kisaragi (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11513712#msg11513712)<br><strong>Location: </strong> Inside the Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tags:</strong> Ami Ellison<br><br>As Aori listened to Ami, she couldn't help but grin.&nbsp; "An honest one."&nbsp; Nearly delighted, she kicked up her legs to set her feet on the floor and offer Ami a place to sit.&nbsp; "Rare and precious for the sober in a place like this."<br><br>Although she didn't verbally offer the other side, she did pat the cushion with her fingers in invitation.&nbsp; "I enjoy watching the transformation.&nbsp; There's always a few here who can't help but enjoy themselves when good alcohol is about."&nbsp; She gestured by sloshing her drink in the general direction of the man with the handlebar mustache.&nbsp; "Like Archduke Ferdinand here."<br><br>Apparently, being compared to an assassinated man was enough to catch the gentleman's ire, especially since he had only a passing resemblance to the Archduke.&nbsp; "If that was a threat, Miss Kisaragi, I'll demand satisfaction."<br><br>Rolling her eyes, Aori shook her head, making her hair tumble about her shoulders.&nbsp; "It wasn't a threat, but your wife still does."<br><br>Unable to come up with a snappy comeback, the two simply snort their derision, turn up their noses and saunter away.&nbsp; Aori looked back to Ami.&nbsp; "I'm Aori, by the way."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Keidance</strong> on <strong>22-08-2015, 05:58:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i87.photobucket.com/albums/k132/BriBla/Sister%20Maria%20Lucia_zps30ottdjs.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>:&nbsp; Maria Lucia &nbsp;(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11550235#msg11550235)<br><strong>Location</strong>: Amelia Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Aori and Ami<br><strong>Content</strong>: The perks of being a wallflower in nun's clothing. <br><br><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><br><em><strong>Sisyphus put his hands upon the stone and the universe trembled. The rough texture of it, bit into the flesh of his palms and blood granted the sacrifice that would be given over and over again in brillant pain.</strong></em><br><br>Her step's coincided with her thought as if the heavy weight upon her shoulders was directly caused by nearness of the glittering ones. Did she appear as uncomfortable as she was? It was absolutely possible,&nbsp; she realized as her cimmerian pools cast their gaze over the others who were blocking her path to seclusion. The quickest path lay just upon the borders of where her sinuous legs could carry her without drawing attention. Sigh finally exhaled as she sought the comforted shelter of a statue to be her conjoined twin at her right shoulder, so that those same orbs could slide over the plethora of shimmering Society gathering. Who she searched for, burnt into the soft tissue of her mind, fingers finding their solace in the flick of that nail over crucifix still. <br><br>It would be a lie to say her gaze did not&nbsp; drift over Aori in all her irreverent glory. And a bigger lie to say that it wasn't the cause for the rise of one side of the charlatan Nun's mouth. Something about the woman who exasperated and abraded more then one or two of the other guests, gave a touch of mirth to the dark eyes.&nbsp; Maria Lucia did not need to hear what was being said to clearly understand the reverberation's of the well endowed Beauty's actions. The ripples of those actions from both her voice, and body arched outwards in circles ever increasing in size until all attentions would be returned to the one at the Center. An amusing thing to watch how the 'lights of Society' held themselves above the stench of reality, the slightest waft of scandal and they were in ways like school aged children spreading their own form of bitterness and bite in the way of gossiped words, and cold stares. <br><br>Even more interesting, and cause for that brow to rise slightly as she watched another speaking towards the Center. No, that one was not like the meretricious Center at all. Nail upon the wooden crucifix flicked in time with her breath now as she observed. From the way that the woman held her tapered flute of rice wine, to the very way that the crisp white cheongsam flowed&nbsp; in competed in contrast to the graceful rolling and pinning of that obsidian kissed hair? Something was not quite right. It could be merely that it was a case of strange beds making stranger bedfellows but still it warranted noting. Her own voyeuristic tendencies enabled as head tilted her habit hiding shielding her from eyes that might wish to pry upon her. <br><br>Vantage point secured in the sweet succor of statues shadow like a good wallflower, she bore witness to where others milled about speaking while libations loosened tongues and fueled feverish discussion. The air of excitement was a current that seemed to have stirred even the elite to a festive mood. So when she rubbed her hip against the pedestal of the statue ever so careful to make sure it didn't knock over, she almost found it in her heart to forgive the Father. Almost. But as the heavy cloth of her robes shifted over that dainty form she found herself rising to the balls of feet to look not in this room but the one over. The tuft of white hair, the venerable carriage of a man who was used to being held in most people's esteem, his shoulders curved inwards now making him see all the more weakened by age. Even from here, she could see the burden of his boreal eyes clouded now by the seasons.<br>&nbsp;<br>And as she watched him move the motions slow and methodical as if the joints and muscles refused to work as well as once they did. Maria Lucia felt the most assuaging expression move across her strange features. <em><strong>"Peek a boo, cabra vieja. I see you."</strong></em> the sing song words spoken to the statue beside her as she gave it a look. <em><strong>"Stop being so fresh, cannot you tell I am a woman of the cloth.."</strong></em> the underlying humor in her whisper as she smoothed her robe, just as an excuse to try once more to appease the itching born of humidity and wool. Biding her time, as she bonded with the alabaster stone beside her. <br></span></span><br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Tinkertoy</strong> on <strong>22-08-2015, 13:47:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp;<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="floatright">(http://i238.photobucket.com/albums/ff218/DarlingMissD/bryce.jpg)</div><strong>Who:</strong> &nbsp;Anasztaizia Szarka (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11548661#msg11548661)<br><strong>Where:</strong> Inside the Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Thread Summary:</strong> Intro, jonesing, putting on a professional face <br><strong>Tags:</strong> Open<br><hr>The room was at sea.&nbsp; It rocked as if in the grasp of some terrible storm. The high gloss of the parquet floor reflected back every dimmed light as tiny incandescent spectres that were holding fast with far more grace than Anasztaizia could even conceive of mustering. Her small hands clutched the porcelain of the sink; her head was bowed into the basin and great convulsing retches possessed her small body to the sound of her pained cries. The symphony of a million voices of the dead was a chaotic cacophony that filled her head with a nuclear toxicity. The filter had corroded her maternal gift of harnessing her ability and slamming the door shut on all those voices that were usually unanswered, was in tatters as she was gripped in the throes of her biggest shame. <br><br>Her pale skin was sullen and waxy, fat drops of ocean brine dripped from her nose and chin into the sink in almost musical drops. Her swollen lips moved feverishly as if she were speaking in tongues to The Almighty Himself. Hair the colour of the dying rays of the sun hung in corded strands, slick with sweat and saliva. A bone rattling retch gripped her form to deliver nothing more than more long strings of spit. Her fingers drummed on the slick white surface as she rocked herself back and forth with a pathetic whimper breaching her throat. Her tissue thin lids fluttered and tears were added to the brew of her body fluids that were trickling down the drain.<br><br>The voices took on a conspiratorial tone; the odd word here and there could be caught from the maelstrom sound that filled her mind.&nbsp; “Shame” was snarled. “Disgusting” was spat. “Addict” was barked.&nbsp; Anasztaizia shook her head with a mirthless smile clinging to her lips, “Baszd meg...you..you ungrateful, invading, pieces of..”<br><br>The bilungual retort was cut short with a second convultion that wrapped crushing hands on her spine and savagely twisted. A splatter of spital threaded with the briliant red of fresh blood hit the sink with a wet fury. A groan was pulled from deep within in her gut and the medium rocked forward until her forehead rested on the cool chrome of the taps.&nbsp; Ragged , shallow breaths blew desert scorching carbon dioxide over her raw lips. The brilliant chartruse of her red rimmed eyes was snuffed out by shadow darkened lids and her head begain a gentleroll from side to side to fully exploit the chilling effect of the faucet.<br><br>A frenzied knocking threatened to vibrate the suite’s door clear of its hinges and a panicked voice of a young man called from the other side of the portal, “Ms Szarka, Ms Szarka. I have it!”<br><br>“Jesus Christ! Come in! Come in”<br><br>The door rattled with opening and a long limbed youth burst into the room with dark eyes wide and a small package wrapped tightly in red paper. He headed straight to the source of the pained voice and stood goggle eyed at the dishevelled form of Anasztaizia pooled into the washbasin. Her head turned to look directly at him and her sallow face crumpled in frustration, “Don’t just stand there, <em>boy</em>. Money, the money is my…my” <br><br>One small hand vaguely waved back into the sitting area. “The coffee table…Jesus…”<br><br>She rose from her perch and the same hand was held out expectantly, “Just give it to me”<br><br>The youth took two steps and gingerly placed the small package in her hand fearfully as if he were to come in contact with her fevered skin he might contract her withdrawal. Her cunning fingers snatched the parcel and skinned the vermillion paper from the dark blue bottle it contained. With trembling fingertips the tiny cork was pried free, Anasztaizia let out an impatient moan and the mouth of the bottle was brought to her lips. She maneuvered herself slowly, tilting her head back precariously. The deep ambered liquid spilled into her mouth and down her throat like liquid fire. Permafrost froze everything in the wake of the bottled wildfire and the youth looked on horrified. “Ms Szarka, I don’t think...”<br><br>Her free hand shot up with a single forefinger extended to silence him. The half drained bottle was carefully placed on the vanity and Anasztaizia stood with a gentle sway to her form for several slowly passing seconds. Her breathing seemed to stabilise and her posture shifted as if she were fitted with strings being drawn taut by an expert puppeteer. The swell of voices blessedly diminished one by one as her barriers were restored brick by brick. A soft sigh of relief came with a smile and the acidic green of her eyes were revealed from behind bruise coloured lids.<br><br>“My clutch, on the coffee table, come boy.”<br><br>She gusted past the youth, her gait still staggered, but with some semblance of control. The beaded clutch glittered in her hand as it was retrieved from the table and her fingers delved into its belly. A single note folded into a perfect square was held between her fore and middle fingers to be waved in the youth’s direction. “Take it, there is extra for your discretion, boy.”<br><br>The youth nodded and gave a slight bow as he quickly snatched the offered payment. She turned and watched him scurry from her suite as fast as his feet would take him. “Boy! Remember, you say a single word of this to anyone and I will direct your dear, departed uncle to torment you as he did in life.”<br><br>He stopped dead in his tracks, his head slowly turned to look on Anasztaizia with an expression of undiluted terror, “Ms Szarka, I would never….how do you.”<br><br>A smirk sat on Anasztaizia’s pale lips and her head quirked slightly to the left, “He told me, boy. He told me all about the night time visits. Now go, quick before I summon him here to follow you all the way home.”<br><br><div align="center">-o0o-</div><br>&nbsp;She could have been anyone: a starlet of the silver screen, a fashionable socialite, the wife of a high ranking politician or even secret agent brought in to keep an eye on the fabled artifacts that were the real stars of the event. She moved with a fluid ease around the estate, polite smiles and acknowledging nods,&nbsp; all given with a never ending flute of champagne in her left hand. The dress she wore was the deep sensuous blue of midday shadows, the velvet plunged the length of her slender back exposing skin so pale that she looked kissed by snow. That tiny, copper topped, indigo humming bird flitted from cluster to cluster of V.I.P.s, sipping the nectar of conversation and atmosphere, blessing each group with the divine light of her presence then darting off to the next point of interest and nourishment.<br><br>Anasztaizia knew how to work a room, give each big player just that teasing, little taste of her company then quickly move on to the next to constantly leave everyone wanting more. She left a glowing path of contentment in her wake like a trail of glittering breadcrumbs for the ego.&nbsp; If you were to go back to each group and ask for a description of the woman that had just left there would be vague adjectives and blissful smile, but not a single soul could pin down her appearance. They could wax lyrical for a day and half about how delightful she was or how charming she had been, but she was as much a spectre as the invisible entourage that followed.<br><br>It was in that traverse between two groups that Anasztaizia had suddenly paused.&nbsp; Her graceful form was completely still as if she were nothing more than a startlingly realistic painting. The chartreuse of her eyes seemed to flicker with tiny tongues of flame and when she moved it was to touch fingertip first to the bone bracelet at her wrist and then the titanic moonstone on her finger. Her merlot lips were slightly parted and if one were to watch her for any length of time they would notice her waifish chest rise and fall with quickened shallow breaths. The gleaming copper of her head slowly moved from left to right, taking meticulous time to scan the room as if she were a dial on a wireless. Her gaze stopped at the entrance and she was in motion. Small feet were speedy to carry her to a large vase festooned with glorious chrysanthemums and exotic orchids. It was then she allowed the fox fire of her eyes to be snuffed by porcelain lids. Hidden beside the flora, in plain sight, she tilted her head and her brows creased in a frown of concentration. The voices of the deceased had whipped up into something of a frenzy and she could feel the vortex pull of a life surrounded by almost as many dead as she. <br><br>It was like a whisper of a melody from a distant youth: both familiar and slightly alien. The downy hair of her nape slowly rose and jewels of iced perspiration formed as first light dew about her shoulders and décolletage.&nbsp; The filter between the horde of lost souls and her mind was slowly retracted, the voices slipped in: at first quiet and in harried tones, but slowly their collective voice grew in both numbers and tone.&nbsp; Anasztaizia’s eyes had opened and she nodded with a grim expression cast on her delicate features, “I know…”<br><br>She had left the safety of the floral arrangement then and sauntered with what appeared to be a non-distinct purpose towards the grand doors that served as the entrance. The closer she got the more those which others could not see panicked. The division between her and them was gently pulled up to shield her from most of the phantasmal noise, just a sliver was left open so she could utilise the advantage that they could offer her in a potentially hazardous situation.<br><br>Then there he was: the source of all the chaos that had broken out around her. Masquerading as something dignified, something with the heart of a man. His striking figure in the fashionably cut suit may have the fooled rest of the attendees and perhaps even the statuesque woman who dangled on his arm like a pearl bracelet. Anasztaizia knew this man, knew his true face and the infernal blaze that surrounded him like a funeral pyre. She stopped in clear view of the doorway, champagne flute still floating in her left hand; there would be no avoiding her for any soul that came through that door. The ache of their first and previous meeting scrabbled in her chest as memories of a dark underground came to taunt her mind. She held firm, her glorious mystique glowing like an angelic corona. Her smile was open and inviting and a mask to conceal a mouth full of venomous daggers, she nodded acknowledging the voices’ warnings with the merest whisper, “He is here…the Soviet bastard.”<br></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HairyHeretic</strong> on <strong>24-08-2015, 01:03:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/4/43/Bfi-00n-g67.jpg)</div><strong>Who:</strong> Juan Sánchez Villa-Lobos Ramírez<br><strong>Where:</strong> Outside the Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tags:</strong> Any<br><br>Ramírez had been studying the mansions for some time, idly formulating and discarding plans. He had no doubt he could get inside, but could he do it without tripping whatever was causing that odd glowing spiderweb he could <strong><em>see</em></strong> to react. The stream of cars had slowed to a trickle, either the running late or the fashionably late, but he was unlikely to blend in with any of them, at least not going in the front door.<br><br>Movement from above caught his eye, and his gaze narrowed as what looked like large .. very large .. birds silhoetted themselves momentarily as they passed the moon, and vanished into the darkness beyond once more. It was hard to see, given the lack of light, but it looked like whatever they had been might just have come down on the roof of the Linbergh mansion.<br><br>"Well now," murmured Ramírez, "And just who might you be?"<br><br>"Does he not know who we are?" came a voice from his pocket.<br><br>"What's so strange about that?" replied another. "There are days you don't know who ye are either."<br><br>"Only when I've had a few drams the night before." protested the first voice.<br><br>Ramírez rolled his eyes and tapped the hip flask. "If you don't have something useful for me, keep it down." he said quietly. <br><br>"Gie us a wee shufty then." said a voice on his shoulder<br><br>Ramírez turned his head to look at the Pictsie that sat perched on his shoulder. "Aren't you supposed to stay in there til I tell you to come out?" he said.<br><br>"Aye, well, more or less." came the response. "But ye said not to say anything unless it was useful, and we cannae do that unless we know what it is we're supposed to be doing. So here I am."<br><br>Ramírez narrowed his eyes slightly, but decided to let that rather liberal interpretation of his words stand. Perhaps they might see something he couldn't after all.<br><br>"So, are ye trying to get inside that oversized cakebox?" the Pictsei, Ruairi, asked. As leader of the band, he was slightly less deranged than the rest.<br><br>Ramírez nodded. "Preferably without anyone noticing." he added. "Any ideas?"<br><br>"Aye, not a bother." Ruairi replied. "We pick ye up, quick run, do the crawstep, and we're in."<br><br>"We're verra good at gettin intae places." came another voice, and Ramírez looked down at a semi circle of flaming red hair and grinning blue faces. "Especially places we're no supposed tae."<br><br>"Right lads." said Ruairi, and Ramírez wobbled slightly as he felt himself picked up by the Pictsies. Before he could ask just what this crawstep involved, he was hurtling at high speed towards the wall across the road. Instinctively he raised his hands to cover his face, his muscles tensing at the expected impact. He felt something lurch, a momentary sensation of falling and then the movement stopped. Cautiously he lowered his hands, to find himself in what seemed to be a bedroom of some kind.<br><br>"See, nae bother at all."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AndyZ</strong> on <strong>27-08-2015, 19:27:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/1/17/Aori_Kisaragi.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Aori Kisaragi (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11513712#msg11513712)<br><strong>Location: </strong> Inside the Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tags:</strong> Maria Lucia, Anasztaizia Szarka, The Dame<br><br>From time to time, she felt that nun's eyes upon her, but didn't pick up on any actual disgust or disdain.&nbsp; The smile she offered in kind was genuine, warm, maybe a little flirtatious.&nbsp; Aori actually tended to feel bad for nuns, spending their entire lives fighting the desire to do something as natural as perpetuating the species.&nbsp; Someday she totally wanted to try one out in the bedroom just for the experience, but it didn't seem very likely.<br><br>As the famous medium walked in, Aori glanced over.&nbsp; Would this be an actual medium or just a charlatan?&nbsp; Supposedly they truly did exist, but Aori had never actually met one.&nbsp; Hopefully things would be fun.<br><br>It wasn't until she noticed The Dame, though, that her attention really locked onto one person in particular.&nbsp; She took another sip of her drink, watching the way she moved around and trying to figure out if the beautiful woman was actually with anyone yet.&nbsp; A girl who looked like that wouldn't be alone for long unless she chose to be.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HairyHeretic</strong> on <strong>29-08-2015, 02:14:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/4/43/Bfi-00n-g67.jpg)</div><strong>Who:</strong> Juan Sánchez Villa-Lobos Ramírez<br><strong>Where:</strong> Outside the Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tags:</strong> Any<br><br>If there was one thing Ramírez had learned, it was that when you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be, it was more important than ever to appear like you had more right to be there than anyone else. That and never to play cards with anyone who kept more knives in his sleeves than you did aces.<br><br>"Alright." he said to his band of extremely loyal and quite strange little followers "Since we got in, now we need to find out what is going on in here. Wu said there was something nasty going on in here, and it's up to us to find it."<br><br>"And then what?" asked Daft Willy, much to Ramírez complete lack of surprise.<br><br>"We steal it." replied Big Yin, which got a chorus of approving sounds and smiles from the rest.<br><br>"You come let me know what it is." said Ramírez, before the Pictsies started off. "And don't let yourselves be seen. There's a big party going on here, lots of people about."<br><br>"And maybe some not people too." replied Willy, which drew a frown from Ramírez.<br><br>"What do you mean by not people?" he asked, cautiously.<br><br>"I've a bad feeling in me water." the Pictsie replied, grimacing and shuffling from foot to foot. Before Ramírez could ask just what he meant by that, the Pictsie dashed under the bed, and after a moment could be heard a long exhalation of relief.<br><br>"He always does that when there's beasties aboot." said Horace the Cheese, the rest of the band nodding sagely. <br><br>"Aye. And he sometimes does that on the beasties too." added Big Yin.<br><br>"His water's nae wrong." replied Ruairi. "Except when he has a few drams too many."<br><br>"And that time w' the curried eel." added Horace. "And when he had that icicle stuffed up his .."<br><br>"I get the idea." Ramírez broke in. "Now, spread out, see if you can find anything that shouldn't be here, and then come back and get me."<br><br>"We should'ne be here." said Daft Willy, coming back out from under the bed. "Do we need to let you know that?"<br><br>"No, I already know that." said Ramírez. "We're looking for something else. Or maybe someone else. Just go look. And try not to steal anything too obvious." he added, looking at Willy again.<br><br>The Pictsie looked somewhat scundered, to use their own terminology. "Ah well, I still say I could have gotten than big clock away wi'out anyone noticing."<br><br>Ramírez cocked his head slightly to one side as he glared down at the Pictsie. "It was six feet tall. Six feet tall clocks do not move by themselves. Nor do they talk to people." He shook his head. "Now, get going."<br><br>Before his words died away, he was alone in the room. He'd take a look around downstairs where the party was first. If there was anything hidden, he'd wager it was underground. Nodding to himself, he went out into the hallway, pulled the door behind him, and set off walking with that particular stride of someone attempting to show they are not as drunk as they actually are.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HairyHeretic</strong> on <strong>03-09-2015, 23:19:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				With the requisite time for mingling and gossiping elapsed, well dressed servants circulated through the crowd, informing everyone that the night's entertainment is about to begin. The red velvet rope is moved away from the double doors at the end of a long hallway, the guests chatting aimably as they move into the darkened room beyond. More servants usher the guests to the rows of staggered seats that line the long walls. <br><br>In the centre of the room sits a round table, less than a dozen chairs surrounding it, lit by a small lamp hanging from the ceiling overhead. The bulb is set dim, so it illuminates only the table and chairs, though the chairs are half hidden in the gloom. Dotted around the room sit a dozen small tables, likewise lit by small overhead lamps, with a variety of small objects enclosed in glass cases.<br><br>Against the far wall, dimly visible, are what appear to be a half a dozen sarcophagi. These in particular draw a murmur of conversation from the guests as they enter, and make their way to the seats that line the walls. It seems only a select few have been selected to take their place at the table in the centre of the room, joining the hostess in the focal point of the night.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AndyZ</strong> on <strong>05-09-2015, 02:21:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/1/17/Aori_Kisaragi.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Aori Kisaragi (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11513712#msg11513712)<br><strong>Location: </strong> Inside the Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tags:</strong> Open<br><br>As everything got started, Aori rushed her way over, wanting to make sure she got a good position without having to shove or prod too much for proper viewing.&nbsp; With these kinds of crowds, people often wanted to stop, talk, hang out by a spot and refuse to move for a while, which meant starting everything out with a proper rush to get to see it all.<br><br>Seeing her coming, a number of people decided to just leave her be, which suited her just fine.&nbsp; It meant she got a good chance to investigate and take a look at everything.<br><br>Sadly, she had no real knowledge of artifacts or archaeological digs, so she had no idea what was valuable or magical.&nbsp; It was all pretty cool to see, though...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Keidance</strong> on <strong>09-09-2015, 06:06:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i87.photobucket.com/albums/k132/BriBla/Sister%20Maria%20Lucia_zps30ottdjs.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>:&nbsp; Maria Lucia &nbsp;(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11550235#msg11550235)<br><strong>Location</strong>: Amelia Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Aori and Ami and OPEN! :) <br><strong>Content</strong>: The perks of being a wallflower in nun's clothing. <br><br><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><br><br>What she noticed or did not notice could fill their own tomes, so pinpointed was her focus to not be seen as she hovered near the alabaster stone that had become some stranger sort of totem. Did her dark eyes focus upon Aori and Ami for perhaps a moment too long? But of course, they were stunningly in their very unique ways as out of place as the one who walked within as the muse that called to creation the hummingbird. Her own lips settled into thinner line as she bid herself not to become distracted to the point of marring her chance . After all, one did not wear woolen panties for just anyone. Not in this humidity! <br><br>Lips curved into something akin to a smile in return to Aori, a hint of mischievous glimmer within her eyes. Even as she drew in a deeper breath and finally, oh finally would start to set herself into motion. Damnation, that the instant she did the servants began their waltz through, breaking up the conversations and gossip. Herding the guests towards the double doors at the end of that long hallway. Like any soiree, the movement of some was faster then the movement of others, idle things feet that pitter pattered to line the masses towards the decadence of what was to be displayed. Somewhere in the crowd she saw him, the weeble wobble of the elderly man, guffawing at some young heiresses attempt to compliment him.&nbsp; &nbsp;Maria's fingertips near rubbed blister upon the wooden line of her rosary, as she counted the distance between them by the sheer intake of breaths.<br><br>What is black and white and red all over? <br><br>A fake nun when a howl from a wounded wildebeest breaks her revelry at finding the target she has been pandering and gambling to obtain in sites for over five years. Red from the blush, as she startled when Mrs. Aster in her lovely chair, being pushed by the self same young man who appeared to have seriously been contemplating some form of self mutilation to make it all stop...<br><br>"<em>SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESTER! Where in HEAVENS name is my drink!" </em>The Beast set free it's tones and the earth rumbled. No. Not the earth, merely the alabaster stone that had been serving as shelter. Damn well not needed now, that everyone and possibly four generations of their families now knew where the nun was hiding. <br><br><em>"Oh! Mrs. Aster, a thousand pardons, a thousand more are needed, Madam!"</em> She did manage to let the tone of her voice not line itself with some bit of acidic venom, merely the bowing of her head, as if the dark curtain of the habit on either side might save her. Fingers pushing the statue back up right before it totally crushed her into the far wall, struggling for a moment before she managed it. Dusting her hands off upon the line of that dark robe as she drew in a very, very, very large breath. <br><em><br>"Well, a thousand are not nearly enough, you lazy thing! Here you are caught up looking at the finery! You ought to be ashamed. Theodore..let her push me, you come and and hold my hand. Can you just imagine her standing there gawking, as if she.." </em>Already Maria was tuning the woman out, as she moved and Theodore gave her that look, the one that nearly begged for some excuse, any excuse, short of gnawing his own arm off to get away. Maria chuckled, as she put her hands upon the chair and pushed the Beast towards the room that held the treasures they were all there too look at and the one treasure that was still living she needed to look inside of. </span></span>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HairyHeretic</strong> on <strong>11-09-2015, 21:07:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/4/43/Bfi-00n-g67.jpg)</div><strong>Who:</strong> Juan Sánchez Villa-Lobos Ramírez<br><strong>Where:</strong> Inside the Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tags:</strong> Any<br><br>Ramírez drifted along with the crowd, having reached the main crowd only a minute or two before the servants had started ushering them towards the focal point of the evening's festivities. His clothes, while not shabby, were not up to the standard of at least some of the overdressed peacocks he could see circulating, and he gave their snooty looks the somewhat heavy lidded drunkards smile he had perfected over the years. He'd relieved a passing waitress of a few small sausage roll type things in passing, as well as glass of brandy, and thus fortified had wandered into the darkened room.<br><br><em>This ... does not look particularly good</em> he thought, staring at the sarcophagi against the far wall with a slight frown. Perhaps Wu was onto something after all. He had time to briefly examine one or two of the glass cabinets in passing. Whatever these were, they were different to anything he'd seen before, though the relief carvings on one stone tablet somewhat resembled something he'd seen on an overgrown abandoned ruin in .. Burma? Siam? Somewhere deep in a jungle where he had no place being anyway.<br><br>Letting the flow of the crowd carry him along, he took his place about midway down the chairs, seated behind an overstuffed walrus with the single most impressive moustache he had ever seen. He momentarily considered lighting a cigar, and seeing if it might catch fire from a stray speck of ash, before chuckling slightly and working on his food.<br><br>" .. can't think what she was thinking of, having such a creature here."<br><br>His brow arched as he overheard a conversation from ahead and few chairs to his left, where a pair of well dressed women had their heads together gossiping.<br><br>"I mean, even to create something fashionably scandalous, there are limits, and that Jezebel far exceeds them."<br><br>"She's probably a party favour for someone that got loose." remarked the other. "Put her out of your mind, and let's just enjoy the rest of the evening. I've heard that the von Heidenreich, the Austrian Ambassador, will be one of the special guests." They both looked towards the central table and sighed in unison. "And there was a gentleman from I believe India, had a horrible little creature attending on him."<br><br>"Nepal, I heard, not India." replied the second, waving her hand vaguely "Or somewhere in that direction at least. Little removed from barbarians themselves, if you ask me. Did you see he had a dagger at his belt?"<br><br><em>Sounds an interesting mix</em> thought Ramírez, moving his chair to get a less obstructed view of the middle of the room. He sipped his drink and waited to see what else the night would bring.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Muse</strong> on <strong>17-09-2015, 10:51:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/2/2d/1422192593064.jpg/450px-1422192593064.jpg)</div><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f0/H2_C.I.46.4.10a-c.jpg)</div>Kendra McCray (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11513303#msg11513303)<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;A few months back Kendra McRay had been asked too repatriate some coptic urns that had been looted by british adventurer's from the tomb of a lesser known pharoh.&nbsp; (She wasn't sure what was more displeasing to the pharoh, the loss of his organs or the fact that historians no longer kept up with the events of his life.)&nbsp; In order to track down the various urns, Kenda had aquired some nicer clothes and started appearing at parties.&nbsp; Before people could get around to asking who invited her, she struck up a conversation with a young couple and offered to read the cards for them.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Kendra was fairly certain that most people were more interested in watching her bend over the cards as she studdied them than in hearing theri future, but she'd spun enough actual prophecy into her readings that she became known and welcome on the London social scene.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;It worked out quite well, really.&nbsp; The energy she invested in those prophecies was repaid over time by the power infusing her legend when strangers spoke her name.&nbsp; It had also won her a few geniune friends--or at least friendly aquiantences.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Last night, here in singapore, she'd encountered Miss Laura Lee Crossland, who was simply delighted to see her.&nbsp; Though Laura did ask for another reading, and Kendra expected that he blue-veined baroness would be through wiht her when that was done, Laura seemed to honestly desire more of her aquaintance.&nbsp; With no gentlemen to escort her to this soire, she'd asked Kendra to be her +1, and had introduced her around.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Kendra was rather surprised to recognize two of the atendees.&nbsp; With Aori here, she wasn't certain wether to expect mischeif or actual trouble, but either way it would be fun, and she'd made sure to meet the japanese girl's eyes and flash her a smile.&nbsp; <br><br><div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/8d/Orange_Tea_Rose.jpg)</div>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She'd been equaly excited to notice Ami Elison, and had paused briefly to greet the gifted linguist and shake her hand.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Laura was on the verge of trying to introduce her to Anasztaizia Szarka when the display began.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Kendra filed into the room, smiling softly.&nbsp; The buxom girl had selected an orange gown for the night, with matching shoes.&nbsp; The tea roses in her hair matched too.&nbsp; Full lips scowled for just a moment at the sight of sarcophogi.&nbsp; <em>If any of these people happen to hop out of the underworld and notice their graves have been stolen, i wonder if Ms. Szarka will see it?"&nbsp; She shrugged a little.&nbsp; If a ghost managed to work up the energy to whisper in her ear, she'd be happy to do him or her a favor.&nbsp; She gathered that it would take so much out of normal ghost to get her attention that it had to be important.&nbsp; <br></em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AndyZ</strong> on <strong>17-09-2015, 11:07:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/1/17/Aori_Kisaragi.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Aori Kisaragi (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11513712#msg11513712)<br><strong>Location: </strong> Inside the Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tags:</strong>&nbsp; Maria Lucia, Kendra McCray<br><br>The sudden glance from the nun made Aori smile, a warm mix somewhere between friendly and seductive, with just a hint that the alcohol was starting to get to her.&nbsp; That same smile was soon offered to Kendra, as soon as Aori made eye contact.<br><br>Various pretty things had been found.&nbsp; Aori glanced them over, but she didn't recognize them or know much about them.&nbsp; Of course, she did know a lot more than the aristocrats who smiled and made chatter but had no idea what they were on about.<br><br>A soft, bored sigh escaped her as she glanced around to the various people.&nbsp; Hearing the sound, a few people quickly stepped away, recognizing how bad a sign it was when Aori started getting bored at fancy affairs.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>HairyHeretic</strong> on <strong>27-09-2015, 19:59:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				One by one the chairs in the room are filled, those around the centre table, the special guests, arriving last. Murmurs of conversation fade as the assembled guests await the words of the hostess, and the proper commencement of the evenings entertainment.<br><br>The impeccable dress Amelia Linbergh rises from her chair, after speaking softly to the foreign gentleman on her left, and turns to survey the room. "Thank you for joining us this evening, ladies and gentlemen. It's so wonderful to have you all here. I know that you have doubtless heard many strange and wonderful stories about what this evening may hold, but rest assured, they shall pale next to the reality."<br><br>She pauses as another susurration of murmuring runs around the room, fading back into inaudibility before she continues. "With Sir Peter graciously consenting to allow us the first view of the treasure he has found, and the talents of Madame Romanova, I promise you a night that none of you shall ever forget."<br><br>She settles back down and nods at Sir Peter Ramsay, who stands up, acknowledging the smattering of polite applause with a raised hand. "Too kind, too kind, thank you." Though he wears a tuxedo, like most of the men here, it seems ill suited to him, his build looking like that of a wrestler just starting to lose their condition, and a bushy black beard that stretches almost halfway down his chest.<br><br>"The items on display here we pulled from a ruin in the jungles of Burma." he said, gesturing around the room. "Whatever city it used to be, time and the jungle have laid waste to most of it. The central pyramid that we obtained most of these from was in the best condition, but that's not saying much. The carvings on the walls were unlike anything we had seen before in the region, appearing more like those found in South America. Quite fascinating really."<br><br>Madame Romanova had quietly arisen and began to slowly walk around the room, peering into the glass cabinets. Stopping at one she lifted out some sort of jewelry, a bracelet linked by fine chains to a gleaming red stone set midway along, and from there by more chains to a pair of rings. Two other chains appeared broken at various lengths, and whatever may have been at the end of them was no longer there.<br><br>Dainty white gloves covered her hands, and she lifted the jewelry from beneath the case, lowering the lid back down and placing it on the table in front of her seat. She made her way around the cabinets, adding what appears to be a broken bracer, a golden mask and a small figurine to the jewelry. Pausing, she picks up an oddly shaped bladed triskelion, three crooked arms extending out from a central hub, with a curving blade on the end of each arm. Aori might think it somewhat like the shuriken that the ninja were reported to have used, only far larger.<br><br>Settling herself back down in her chair, Madame Romanova removed her gloves, and placed her left hand out over the objects in front of her. Her eyes closed, her hand moved slowly back and forth before stopping above the broken piece of jewelry. Daintily, carefully she picked it up, draping it in one hand while the fingers of the other stroked lightly across it. Her breathing began to slow and deepen, as she turned it back and forth between her fingers, and those close enough could see her lips moving, though what words she was silently speaking were not apparent.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Keidance</strong> on <strong>27-09-2015, 20:39:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i87.photobucket.com/albums/k132/BriBla/Sister%20Maria%20Lucia_zps30ottdjs.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>:&nbsp; Maria Lucia &nbsp;(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11550235#msg11550235)<br><strong>Location</strong>: Amelia Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Open<br><strong>Content</strong>: The perks of being a wallflower in nun's clothing. <br><br><span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"><span style="font-family: georgia;" class="bbc_font"><br><br>Oh, the Beast, in all her wonderment would be shoved, pushed, and prodded by the lines of that wolf in nun's clothing. Striding forwards indeed as some mythological creature, denied the comfort of her own little stone to hide behind. Instead forced to make her body move underneath the heavy weight of woolen robes to attempt to move the girth that occupied the chair. It would be almost comedic if it wasn't happening to her. Almost.&nbsp; Oh, her breath had not been long enough at all, as she struggled against the teeming force to find a perfect space for that woman to occupy from her seat. Mrs. Aster, in all her evident glory deigning to dismiss the Sister with but a foul look and a flick of her fingers, as if to clear offal from the line of her sight. <br><br>Just the excuse needed, as the Hostess rose upwards to speak only after those special guests were given their place at table. Of course, those who watched from the outer berth gave ooh's and aww's at the tension that began to fill the room. Such glittering stars to be taken with the display of what was absolutely occultism in it's own way. To speak with Spirits left Maria with that look upon her own face, the treasures being exposed though, oh those were glimmering glinting bits of time and history. A wonderment upon the dark features as she wondered to herself how expressive the Spirits might be, considering if the Madame was as 'talented' and not merely a sham artist directing a con, in attempt to sway a bit of coin this way or that.<br><br>It mattered little to the small woman, as she would move back, Mrs. Aster's dismissal of her so that the woman could watch the display left her freedom to roam. Let alone the weight of her gaze falling upon her own prey, the gentleman with his bushy white hair, and gnarled fingers having found a seat to watch the upcoming <em>'show'</em> a bit out of the way, in that alcove. Maria slipped, as quiet as a shadow, drifting with that gifted motion of one used to blending in, comfortable with being '<em>forgotten'</em>. Her delicate fingers plucked up a fine crystalline flute, as she moved past a waiter who gave her only the raise of eyebrow that the Nun would take drink, as she strode towards the one who her dark eyes hunted. <br><br>Nearer, always nearer, with faint motions as gloves of Madame Romanova were removed and that hand reached outwards. Did Maria even notice the way breathing had begun to slow and deepen? So convinced it was merely some ten pence show, that it was beneath her attention and if not? When had a spirit ever said something useful to her? The notion made her lips curve as she came to the side of Mr. Von Schultz, the presentation of the offered flute but a small flourish of her hand as she dipped her habit covered head forwards. <br><br><em><strong>"For you, kind Sir, with all the grateful tidings of Mrs. Aster. She thought you looked rather parched. Are you, Sir? Parched that is?" </strong></em><br><br>The soft words whispered to the line of ear, her head dipped close enough to gift it, crouching beside the seated man, who watched the table from this vantage point. There was some bit of tenderness in the Nun's expression, some doll like animation as the gnarled fingers of the man rose outwards to take the flute between his calloused fingertips, gruff voice rolling out of lips thick with his own accent. <br><br><em><strong>"I am. Beyond all belief, Sister." </strong></em>The cold gaze of his near dead eyes as they turned to meet the face of the one. <em><strong>"But it was not she who sent you."</strong></em><br><br>Maria drew in a light breath as she brushed lips to the line of that wrinkled brow, the blessing of the damned to one who was as damned as she was. <em><strong>"No. It was not. But it does not matter now, does it? You know why I am here?" </strong></em><br><br>Von Schultz gave that faint nod the motion so light it was barely noticeable. Maria's lips curved into something akin to a smile as she turned dark eyes to watch the show, as her hand drew closer to the shoulder and then with but a feathered whisper of her fingernails found the line of his scalp to rest nails against. <em><strong>"Good. Then we can dispense with the nonsense of polite behavior. I was never much for it anyhow, an illusion of the truth of men. "</strong></em> The crinkle of her nose showed her disdain for the sensation of her fingertips against that wrinkled flesh as she let those dark eyes half closed. Touch. Such a needed sin, for what she wanted, the faintest compulsion forcing fingers to spread as Maria allowed him at least the view of the show. He was given that, for it would be the last one he would ever see. <br><br><em><strong>"I have come such a long way, to know what you know. To see what you see. But I am not without kindness, I knew it once. I think you may have as well. What a heavy weight you must have upon that soul within that flesh case. I can smell the rot of it from here. You know what comes will be pain, for us both, but I can promise you, after you will feel nothing but the peaceful illumination that absolution brings. Savor it, as you savor these last moments wallowing in your filth. For they are but moments." </strong></em><br><br></span><br><br></span>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Scion (Pulp) - The Atlantis Affair - Chapter 1 </strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>AndyZ</strong> on <strong>28-09-2015, 08:26:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/1/17/Aori_Kisaragi.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Aori Kisaragi (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11513712#msg11513712)<br><strong>Location: </strong> Inside the Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br><strong>Tags:</strong> Maria Lucia, Open<br><br>Nine out of ten seances were boring.&nbsp; More likely ninety-nine in a hundred, if Aori had been capable of accurately gauging.<br><br>Truth be told, with her it tended to be more half and half.&nbsp; Aori never sought out seances, so when they just happened to show up on the scene, it wasn't uncommon at all for her to have a warning to be on her guard.&nbsp; It was a mixed blessing, though, since 50-50 odds gave her just enough for her heart to try to guard against the possibility of disappointment.<br><br>Perhaps a normal, sane person wouldn't hope for a catastrophe, but Aori could get bored so easily.&nbsp; Even the nun had found an interesting companion, but most of the people here just seemed too stuffy for her tastes.<br><br>The alcohol was starting to tickle her brain.&nbsp; Other Scions required an awful lot of booze just to get a buzz, but Aori didn't have that problem, probably thanks to destroying her liver well before her Visitation.&nbsp; That didn't help her follow along at all, especially since she'd never been to South America and knew very little of the culture beyond its being Atzlanti territory.&nbsp; And Burma...Burma was in the...<br><br>Aori rubbed at her temple for a moment, honestly trying to get a feel for why ordinary humans would find such things appealing.&nbsp; She wasn't stupid - she liked to think she wasn't stupid - but book learning had never been her forte by any means.<br><br>Her eyes caught upon the oversized shuriken, and she frowned, moving over closer.&nbsp; What kind of weird weapon was that?&nbsp; Way too big to throw.&nbsp; Still, it would probably do a lot of damage.&nbsp; Her curiosity piqued, she tried to get up close to the triskelion.<br><br>Along the way, she bumped into an older, apparently anorexic noblewoman whose skin hung to her as loosely as her golden jewelry.&nbsp; A humph came from the old woman, who spun over towards Aori.&nbsp; "How dare you?&nbsp; Do you know who I am?"<br><br>Aori only shrugged helplessly.&nbsp; "No, sorry.&nbsp; I've seen the poster, but I never actually saw Nosferatu."&nbsp; She patted the woman on the cheek, then scooched her way past.<br><br>Enraged, the noblewoman started to reach forward when a younger acquaintance - perhaps her son - held her back and whispered something.&nbsp; Going white, she decided to go have a look at some of the other artifacts.
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>