Post by Lysander Brunel on May 30, 2007 13:48:14 GMT
Full Name: Lysander Kingdom Brunel
Character Representation: Don't know who he is
Image of Character (provide the URL to the image, it must be appropriate and of a decent size): i119.photobucket.com/albums/o150/dashotton/lkb-avatar.jpg
Nicknames: None
Date of Birth (not including year): 18th October
Age (must fit in desired ranking): 360
Marital Status: Polygamous, three wives, two husbands
Team (you may be placed into one later if you don’t already have one in mind): Time agent
Ranking: ?
Handedness: Ambidextrous
Sexual Preference: None
Height (in feet and inches): 6' 3"
Weight (in pounds): 170lbs
Eyes (colour only): Brown
Hair (colour only): Green
Distinguishing Marks/Features: Pointed ears, green hair, no nipples or navel
Sample RP (the quality of your sample will determine your ranking):
Simon De Montfort sat at a table at the rear of the café bar; his seat afforded him the best view possible of the entrance - and the emergency exit, just in case. He performed a leisurely scan of the room, he found nothing out of the ordinary, and settled down to read his paper.
"Hi Simon," the waitress said brightly, "you're becoming quite a regular here."
"Jodie, hi, looking good," he replied returning the smile, but the fact that he had registered as a regular made him pause for thought.
"Lovely warm day don't you think, nice and sunny."
He agreed that was indeed the case.
"Warm enough for you to take your beanie off then?" she asked.
"Nah, I like my hat." Besides, I'd get loads of Spock jokes if it came off.
"What can I get you today?" Jodie asked, pulling her pad from the pocket of her tiny white apron.
"Lager, a pint out of any of the cooking taps will do. Anything on the specials menu I might like today?"
The skin between her brows wrinkled slightly in concentration. "The chef has gone Thai for today. A hot and sour soup, I think you'd like, or there's filled cucumber cups, with peanuts, spring onions and red chillies." Simon listened to the rest of the bill of fare and marvelled how the young woman didn't have to look anything up once. She had quite a memory.
Jodie went off about her business, the barman delivering his beer a couple of minutes later, and Simon settled back into his paper. He had chosen Bar-Barossa because of its location, Canal Street was pedestrianised, but busy – even now at lunchtime – and that meant lots of witnesses, and to him that translated into safety.
Ever since he had escaped from the detention suite beneath the Torchwood Tower he had got into the habit of keeping his mind on the people around him, just in case. It was instinct to him, you didn't survive working for Faction Paradox by ignoring your intuition. The construct of the bar in his head was continually in motion, flowing, swirling and eddying with the usual shades and tints of the erratic jumble that made up human emotion. The psychically active showed up like the ripples of like stones dropped into a pool, and that allowed him to spot Torchwood Institute operatives as they as all had rudimentary psychic training. So, he was surprised when he found an attractive blonde woman sat opposite him, as he hadn't detected her approaching.
Folding his paper he placed it on the low table between them, and took a hefty belt from his lager before speaking. "Can I offer you a drink?" he offered politely.
"Ooh, how kind, a white wine would be nice please Lysander." She was a charmer that much was certain.
He called across to Jodie, who happened to be passing by, to order the drink. "So, you’re a psi-blank then. You're my first."
"Yeah, we are very rare. Only one other on the planet that I know of, he lives in London as it happens." Someone who was psi-blank did not show up on his head-map, unlike a shielded mind, which he perceived as a hole or a shadow, a psi-blank was invisible, mentally speaking.
Jodie placed a chilled glass on a small paper coaster before the woman, and she thanked the waitress as she laid a steaming dish before him. "Roasted Thai vegetables in coconut milk."
He sniffed deeply; he loved food from the Far East. "Thanks Jodie, smells wonderful." As the waitress departed he lit his eighteenth cigarette of the day. "So what do you want?"
"Straight to the point. Shouldn't we be introduced?" the woman said, in mock hurt.
"That would be particularly pointless; the fact that you are here, and you know my real name indicates that you already know who you are dealing with. As for myself, I have zero interest in who you are."
"Well, just to observe the formalities my name is Sarah, Sarah Evans."
Lysander exhaled, the smoke drifting towards the new arrival.
"Second hand smoke kills you know," Sarah said dryly.
He fixed her with a basilisk stare. "But not nearly quickly enough."
She laughed; it was a warm and gentle sound. "Those things have about as much a deleterious effect on me as they do on your kind."
Shame, he thought. "So, where is it to be this time? With your London operation in ruins, where do you propose to imprison me this time?"
The woman sat back in her chair, a wry grin on her near perfect features. "What makes you think I want to imprison you?"
"There are four of your goons out on the street," he told her, "one more sat by the door, and there are two more guarding the rear. I could just go on the run again."
"That's no life Lysander."
"Neither is being stuck in a cell, no matter how well appointed it might be. I had nearly eight years of that, no more. I may have lost my magicks when the Faction sent me into this reality, I may be stranded now but I am far from helpless."
"I'm sure," Sarah said with an air of confidence. "By the way, I should tell you, they aren't mine."
"Who aren't yours?" Lysander asked.
"The goons you told me about. It's a UNIT Snatch Squad actually."
"I thought Torchwood outranked UNIT."
"Oh, they do, they do," Sarah agreed. She leaned forward and took a drink from her glass. "Hmm, fresh. I know you're one of the good guys Lysander; you lead dozens of innocents to safety from the Cybermen during the Battle of Canary Wharf. Putting your life on the line more than once in doing so, when you had no reason, in fact given your imprisonment there you had plenty of reason to leave the Institute staff you found to their fate. And if both UNIT and I can find you, so can others. A lot of stuff went missing from Torchwood One in the aftermath and clear up, every security agency in the country, and quite a few from allied nations were all over Canary Wharf. At least if you are working for us you have a level of protection no one else can offer you. And who knows, one day we might be able to get you back home."
That had his interest. "And who exactly is us?"
"The Time Agency."
* * * * *
Character Representation: Don't know who he is
Image of Character (provide the URL to the image, it must be appropriate and of a decent size): i119.photobucket.com/albums/o150/dashotton/lkb-avatar.jpg
Nicknames: None
Date of Birth (not including year): 18th October
Age (must fit in desired ranking): 360
Marital Status: Polygamous, three wives, two husbands
Team (you may be placed into one later if you don’t already have one in mind): Time agent
Ranking: ?
Handedness: Ambidextrous
Sexual Preference: None
Height (in feet and inches): 6' 3"
Weight (in pounds): 170lbs
Eyes (colour only): Brown
Hair (colour only): Green
Distinguishing Marks/Features: Pointed ears, green hair, no nipples or navel
Sample RP (the quality of your sample will determine your ranking):
Simon De Montfort sat at a table at the rear of the café bar; his seat afforded him the best view possible of the entrance - and the emergency exit, just in case. He performed a leisurely scan of the room, he found nothing out of the ordinary, and settled down to read his paper.
"Hi Simon," the waitress said brightly, "you're becoming quite a regular here."
"Jodie, hi, looking good," he replied returning the smile, but the fact that he had registered as a regular made him pause for thought.
"Lovely warm day don't you think, nice and sunny."
He agreed that was indeed the case.
"Warm enough for you to take your beanie off then?" she asked.
"Nah, I like my hat." Besides, I'd get loads of Spock jokes if it came off.
"What can I get you today?" Jodie asked, pulling her pad from the pocket of her tiny white apron.
"Lager, a pint out of any of the cooking taps will do. Anything on the specials menu I might like today?"
The skin between her brows wrinkled slightly in concentration. "The chef has gone Thai for today. A hot and sour soup, I think you'd like, or there's filled cucumber cups, with peanuts, spring onions and red chillies." Simon listened to the rest of the bill of fare and marvelled how the young woman didn't have to look anything up once. She had quite a memory.
Jodie went off about her business, the barman delivering his beer a couple of minutes later, and Simon settled back into his paper. He had chosen Bar-Barossa because of its location, Canal Street was pedestrianised, but busy – even now at lunchtime – and that meant lots of witnesses, and to him that translated into safety.
Ever since he had escaped from the detention suite beneath the Torchwood Tower he had got into the habit of keeping his mind on the people around him, just in case. It was instinct to him, you didn't survive working for Faction Paradox by ignoring your intuition. The construct of the bar in his head was continually in motion, flowing, swirling and eddying with the usual shades and tints of the erratic jumble that made up human emotion. The psychically active showed up like the ripples of like stones dropped into a pool, and that allowed him to spot Torchwood Institute operatives as they as all had rudimentary psychic training. So, he was surprised when he found an attractive blonde woman sat opposite him, as he hadn't detected her approaching.
Folding his paper he placed it on the low table between them, and took a hefty belt from his lager before speaking. "Can I offer you a drink?" he offered politely.
"Ooh, how kind, a white wine would be nice please Lysander." She was a charmer that much was certain.
He called across to Jodie, who happened to be passing by, to order the drink. "So, you’re a psi-blank then. You're my first."
"Yeah, we are very rare. Only one other on the planet that I know of, he lives in London as it happens." Someone who was psi-blank did not show up on his head-map, unlike a shielded mind, which he perceived as a hole or a shadow, a psi-blank was invisible, mentally speaking.
Jodie placed a chilled glass on a small paper coaster before the woman, and she thanked the waitress as she laid a steaming dish before him. "Roasted Thai vegetables in coconut milk."
He sniffed deeply; he loved food from the Far East. "Thanks Jodie, smells wonderful." As the waitress departed he lit his eighteenth cigarette of the day. "So what do you want?"
"Straight to the point. Shouldn't we be introduced?" the woman said, in mock hurt.
"That would be particularly pointless; the fact that you are here, and you know my real name indicates that you already know who you are dealing with. As for myself, I have zero interest in who you are."
"Well, just to observe the formalities my name is Sarah, Sarah Evans."
Lysander exhaled, the smoke drifting towards the new arrival.
"Second hand smoke kills you know," Sarah said dryly.
He fixed her with a basilisk stare. "But not nearly quickly enough."
She laughed; it was a warm and gentle sound. "Those things have about as much a deleterious effect on me as they do on your kind."
Shame, he thought. "So, where is it to be this time? With your London operation in ruins, where do you propose to imprison me this time?"
The woman sat back in her chair, a wry grin on her near perfect features. "What makes you think I want to imprison you?"
"There are four of your goons out on the street," he told her, "one more sat by the door, and there are two more guarding the rear. I could just go on the run again."
"That's no life Lysander."
"Neither is being stuck in a cell, no matter how well appointed it might be. I had nearly eight years of that, no more. I may have lost my magicks when the Faction sent me into this reality, I may be stranded now but I am far from helpless."
"I'm sure," Sarah said with an air of confidence. "By the way, I should tell you, they aren't mine."
"Who aren't yours?" Lysander asked.
"The goons you told me about. It's a UNIT Snatch Squad actually."
"I thought Torchwood outranked UNIT."
"Oh, they do, they do," Sarah agreed. She leaned forward and took a drink from her glass. "Hmm, fresh. I know you're one of the good guys Lysander; you lead dozens of innocents to safety from the Cybermen during the Battle of Canary Wharf. Putting your life on the line more than once in doing so, when you had no reason, in fact given your imprisonment there you had plenty of reason to leave the Institute staff you found to their fate. And if both UNIT and I can find you, so can others. A lot of stuff went missing from Torchwood One in the aftermath and clear up, every security agency in the country, and quite a few from allied nations were all over Canary Wharf. At least if you are working for us you have a level of protection no one else can offer you. And who knows, one day we might be able to get you back home."
That had his interest. "And who exactly is us?"
"The Time Agency."
* * * * *