Posts by [CHARACTER STORAGE.]

curious goerge whom sdfjgsjdh so schenectady (or just tady if you can't spell) needs some friends. so far he's in the rift, but he's very friendly to everyone, enemies or not. he's got very expensive tastes and likes to adventure and cause trouble, and is generally pretty light hearted. i'm also open to interaction threads, but i'd prefer if they had a plot to them rather than just meeting @ the border and introducing themselves

he is closed to injury/death, captures, and litters.

Unlike Crashedpaw, Tady quite liked his own face. He thought it was perfect for any outfit, any kind of headgear, whatever he could think of. He seemed to have a rather rare quality - a high self-esteem. He wasn't a narcissist by any means, he just thought (or knew, rather) that he was a handsome monkey and nothing would change his mind. It was hard for the macaque to see just what made others so ugly in their heads. Nobody was really unattractive until they opened their mouths and proved themselves to be complete and total dickwads, or whatever. It was debatable, but to the Japanese macaque, genuinely ugly creatures were rare. Scars and mutations just looked cool to him. However, he was a slut for fashion of any kind, so the sight of Crashedpaw had him curiously crawling over, interest clear on his little pink face. "Neat," he remarked, coming to rest on his hind legs beside Sonambuli, arms crossed. "You look like a real cool guy." An elegant one, at that. He also liked how it looked, however he thought any kind of accessory looked good on anyone, so perhaps he wasn't the best guy to go to when it came to judging that sort of thing.

"Also kind of mysterious," the macaque continued, tugging absently at his faux fur coat. "Like - y'know Phantom of the Opera? That dude with the mask?" He made vague gestures, attempting to illustrate with his four-fingered hands what he was describing, though it just looked like he was waving them around. "Cool, like that guy." He leaned forward a bit to get a closer look, immediately enthralled by the intricate fabric now decorating the tiger's face, hazel eyes blown wide with curiosity.

Joining a clan was a lot easier than Tady thought it'd be. The other animals at the zoo he originated from, had described them as foul, uptight creatures that would have made him prove his loyalty lest he be banished, or even worse, maimed. However, they had all been stuck behind the plexi-glass walls of a tree-filled enclosure for several years, so while their knowledge wasn't exactly false, it was... outdated. In fact, he had been approached by one of the clanners before he even reached the border, some unimportant NPC on their way back from wherever, and their exchange took about two minutes before all of a sudden, the snow monkey was now a fresh member of the Rift. Tugging his faux-fur coat tighter around himself, the macaque soon settled back onto all four legs and clambered after his new clanmate, calling in a thick Eastern accent, "Wait for me!" They didn't really slow down for him, but he managed to catch up anyway, pink face quickly reverting into an expression of wonderment as he camp upon the Rift's camp. "Wow..." Was that a lighthouse? He'd seen lighthouses in pamphlets before, but never in real life.

There were so many places to go and see. He didn't know which one he wanted to run to first. The village over there? Maybe he should have explored the lighthouse first. Or perhaps it was a better idea to meet some of his clanmates first. What to do...? Oh, this was so conflicting. Closing his eyes and sitting back on his hind legs, one bedazzled finger pointed at the horizon, Schenectady muttered quickly, "Eeny meeny miney moe..." When he finished, his finger had landed on the lighthouse. "Lighthouse it is." And so, Tady began to wander towards it, hazel eyes lit up and blown wide as he soaked up the sights.

Unfortunately for Royalguard, it was not the Rift's darling admiral that approached but a rather bedazzled little snow monkey, done up in a faux-fur coat and complete with a dramatic pair of sunglasses, a pleasant, curled smile upon his pink face as he stepped forward. "Don't know who that is," the macaque replied, taking a moment to pause and rest on his hind legs, tiny four-fingered hands splayed awkwardly in front of him, as though he didn't know what to do with them. "But I think they'll be here soon." Or someone that knew her would go and fetch her. Tady didn't even know what their admiral looked like.

The smell of a stranger quickly brought the snow monkey clambering over, hazel eyes wide and focused intently on Blazestar as he yelled, "Hello," a hand raised to wave at her. He didn't have the slightest of clues who she was, but he was glad to greet her anyway, peering at the basket of gifts at her side through the darkened lenses of his nearly comically oversized sunglasses, a flush saturating his pink face. "Who are you? This is, uh, the Rift." He sat back on his haunches, scratching his fuzzy chin for a moment. He was forgetting something, wasn't he? "Oh! What's your business?"

Watching the snow fall is so calming. She holds out her tiny hands, willing the flakes floating gently down to earth to land in her pink, open palms. She'd made a note of the border nearby, none too concerned with the scent markers but enthused by the snow dotting her dusky fur, a vibrant sunset hidden away by an overcast sky full of dim clouds bathing the land in a muted light. It's quiet. Peaceful, even. Just how Schenectady likes it. She knows what ehe came here for, what she's supposed to do, but that can wait. She's got all the time in the world, after all. A soft sigh tumbles from the snow monkey's mouth, reveling in the way the wind softly whips against her body, thin blanket wrapped around her shoulders to keep warm flapping like a flag in the wind. She closes her eyes, tilts her flushed salmon-colored face to the sky, lets her body fall just like the snowflakes to the ground, landing in a pile of snow and fabric with a quiet collision. Schenectady splays her arms, letting the cold creep under her skin, numb her fingers and cool her body. The sky clears, eventually, and when she opens her eyes she's staring up into a deep mesh of violets and reds, nighttime impending. The sun creeps behind the horizon, and Schenectady is still undiscovered, a thin sheet of snow disturbed as she slowly sits up, wriggles the warmth back into her toes. Her blanket is soaked, and so is her fur, but she doesn't mind - the chill has numbed her body, but her nose burns with the fallen temperatures. She stands, stretches and pops his stiff joints, and slowly wanders forward, toward the same scent marker she's previously ignored, wet cover in tow.

She pauses where the snow is saturated yellow, a soft, childish snicker falling from her lips - the smell is strong here, of course. She knows better than to continue onward, despite growing curiosity, lest she wants to be torn to pieces by savages who had a thirst for needless violence. Why she chose this place, of all clans, had baffled her family and friends. They've taught her as well as they could, though they themselves have been living in captivity for several years now. There's no doubt a good portion of what she's been told is outdated, however Schenectady knows it's better than nothing. She'll just have to make do. She sits on her hind legs, pushing her red-tinted sunglasses up to rest on her furry, snow-soaked forehead, arms crossed around her chest. She hums, quietly, waiting for someone to come and approach her; ask her the typical "name and business," have her pledge loyalty, all the things she has been taught, however dated the knowledge is.

[screeches @ sock]

Cardboard boxes are a place for one's imagination to run wild, however Schenectady is one domesticated creature that has never experienced the joys of such a thing. She approaches, flat nose twitching at the smell, eyeing it curiously, distracted from his exploration of the Renegades' home base. It's such a mundane object, yet she finds himself massively intrigued by the thing, wandering closer on all four legs with wide hazel eyes, raising herself tall to peer inside - and being surprised as she comes upon Pokerchip, cozying themselves inside. "Oh!" She exclaims, accent thick however the feeling of pleasant surprise clear in her voice. "What are you doing?" She thinks they look rather comfortable in there, wishes to situate herself in a box similar to this one, however now captured by the prospect of a friendly conversation the desire goes unheeded, the hint of a smile creeping onto her pink face.

For Schenectady, travelling is no longer anything new, however he's still excited by the prospect of new sights, new faces, new potential friends. Earlier on, however, he had realized that a good portion of his things were left abandoned in the Rift as he'd hastily trekked to new lands, which then gave him plenty of reason to wander straight back, if only to collect his things. It's why he's now humming softly to himself, walking at his own leisurely pace with the handle of a wagon clutched in his hand, said cart in tow. It's full of mostly faux fur coats and other human trinkets he has no need for but is utterly enthused by, such as pink nail polish and fake plastic tiaras meant for little human girls at their sixth birthday parties, not an escape artist of a monkey. Still, the Japanese macaque enjoys them anyway, sporting a brand new pedicure as he clambers along. He spots the gully up ahead, and the rough terrain spread out behind it, a frown replacing his pleasant expression as he looks back at his wagon full of things. Will he be able to get all this through? So far the terrain he's been travelling through has been mostly flat, making it a very easy trip, however he feels he should have known better than to assume it would be a one-and-done kind of thing. Clearly there will be some difficulty along the way, but he takes the gully up ahead as a sign to pause for a moment and collect himself, make a plan.

So he continues onward, pausing just at the summit of the descending land, before reluctantly moving forward, choosing the smoothest path he can find. The red wagon's wheels clank occasionally, but he makes it down, a heavy breath exhaled shakily as he pulls an oversized white coat around himself, fuzzier than his own pelt, eyes and ears suddenly drawn to the crackling fire up ahead. A person? Lovely - a companion to keep him entertained, if only for a minute, while he figures this out. "Hello," the snow monkey says as he clambers towards Regis, smile clear on his flushed, pink face.

Somehow machinery is something Schenectady is more experienced with than anything else. He's by no means a mechanic, however he understands pretty well how simple machines work, can even tinker with them if he so tries, albeit not much other than fussing with some wires and poking at some gears. He flashes back briefly to the air conditioning unit he always got into trouble for taking apart, caught red-handed with panels and parts and an adjacent screwdriver left in the grass to only further prove his guilt. Yet he is and always will be the least troublemaker out of his group, and knows that they've most likely gotten away with worse. Techno is a machine he cannot fix, cannot comprehend - too complicated for him, he can tell from the start, as he wanders on all fours towards the android and Assassin. "He is sparking," the snow monkey says, drawing his arms tighter to himself as one flys. He frowns as he observes the water soaking the robotic canine's fur. "Maybe we should dry him off?" He's no expert, but he's got enough wit to realize that maybe the water isn't doing him well at this moment.

Raising the dead is something Schenectady has only heard in fairy tales, fabricated stories and the rambling of village elders whose minds aren't in the right places. She's deemed it as fiction, a silly concept that while would be interesting to see come to light, is ever fake - or so she had thought. Upon approaching the scene the sickly scent of the previously deceased hits her, flat nose twitching with distaste. What is this? She knows, she's been told of all the horrid, savage things these animals can do, what they're capable of, but this is the first she's seeing of it and while utterly horrified, she admits she is also utterly intrigued. There's nothing for her to say, other than take a seat among her clanmates quietly, hazel eyes blown wide, fixated on Littlesoldier. Eyes turned downward with a sad expression, seeing the female is not quite there but just a zombie speaking mindlessly, no real soul to it, an empty husk being played like a puppet, and she turns her own face away for just a second, unsure what to do, what to say, if her input was even really needed. Schenectady looks back, and Littlesoldier is pitiful, begging for food, hardly a sentient creature like the rest of them but dumbed down like prey. It's awful. Schenectady feels tears spring to her eyes, hoping by some graces of God that never happens to her - her attention is caught by Abathur, the spider controlling the zombie, and she whimpers silently, fearfully, immediately putting together that he's behind this. He had given her a strange sense of calm when she'd first been approached by the arthropod, as though he had reached his own fingers into her mind and stolen her fear before it could even settle, but now there is nothing like that to keep it away. She stays put, scared but curious, conflict waging a war in her own head as she watches this arguably inhumane display.

Schenectady knows full well what cigarettes are - she finds them putrid, repulsive, however she's ashamed to admit they've been in her mouth more than once, if only out of peer pressure from the other monkeys, who found human objects such as cigars more fashionable than her own tastes. She thinks they smell unholy and taste like impending death, a disgusting mess of tobacco wrapped in paper and made ripe for unwitting creatures such as Marlboro to suck in, absorb, kill slowly. She won't preach how unhealthy they seem to be, she doesn't have the energy to be a priest raving against a useless cause, but she still feels that same "ugh" kind of feeling whenever she sees them. Her disgust is ever apparent as she approaches the doberman, but unfortunately she is not his culprit, nor does she have the powers within her to materialize one of those sticks of death as he wants. The macaque comes closer, flat nose twitching with obvious distaste, words thick with a foreign sound on her tongue. "Conjuration?" She repeats, the word unfamiliar. The Renegades all speak a language she's only intermediate in, not necessarily fluent enough to recognize larger words like that, however she can only assume what it means, too embarrassed to ask. "I do not," she says, eyes fixed on the cigarette hanging from the youth's lips.

"Why do you ask?" Schenectady inquires, sitting on her haunches, bland little blanket wrapped around herself as though to keep warm, despite the thick, perfectly groomed layers of dusky fur making up most of her body. It's more of a fashion statement than anything, but a useful one, as it's colder than all hell outside and though she likes the snow, she hates the cold with a burning passion. "Why must you smoke those things?" She continues on, hazel eyes narrowing at the cigarette. Schenectady briefly worries for the male's health, wondering if he's been smoking them long enough for them to do any damage or if it's not too late enough to set him on the right path before his lungs turn black and breathing comes harder. It would be a pity to bury one of her new clanmates so soon after joining this place, yet another soul lost that she would never get to meet - he's still alive now, sure, but Tady doesn't know the extent of cigarettes' dangers or how quickly they work, just that they're awful and do nothing but destroy.

Hazel eyes fall upon the strangest of shapes, a spider looming over her in a way that would have had the monkey scared if it weren't for the soothing fingers that reached into her mind and set her at ease before large pupils could grow wider. All fear forgotten, a smile finds its place on Schenectady's face, as though the being she's currently faced with is as normal as breathing. Name, business. Straight to the point - almost as if Abathur is in a rush, has places to be, but unbeknownst to her it's just how the spider speaks. She would suppose she speaks just as strangely, with a thick accent originating from some vague location in the Eastern hemisphere, words slow, steady, calm and friendly. "Schenectady," the monkey says, raising a hand to smooth back the fur in a perpetual state of dishevelment atop her head, paying no mind as it reverts back to its messy state not a moment later. She does away with her sunglasses, snatching them off her own head to cradle in her hand, rocking on her haunches as she searches for the correct words. Even with his simple wording, Abathur speaks a language she is still learning, comprehension slower than she likes. She manages to speak, despite this, smile still ever apparent on her pink face. "Here to join. The Exiles, is it?" She hopes that's one of the things that hasn't changed, or that she hasn't gotten the wrong place, because that sounds rather... awkward. And, despite her stable demeanor, she severely dislikes anything that's less than perfect. Making mistakes is just not her thing.

"You can call me Tady," she continues, letting her arms droop. "If Schenectady proves to be too difficult."

Worry briefly crosses over her face upon hearing Chip's words. Is this the wrong place? She's sure she followed the directions quite well - serves her right for refusing to take the map offered to her, she supposes, turning her dejected gaze to the floor for a moment, however it's quickly replaced with relief as Madscience approaches, and she dips her head to him, uttering a grateful, "Thank you." She lets her attention drift back to Pokerchip, a curious being, squinting as though she thinks she's seeing things. What are they made of? She can't quite tell, although she knows they are most certainly not something one sees everyday. She decides to inquire later, watching as the next Exiler - er, Renegade approaches, this one rather tame in appearance compared to his wild clanmates. A giant spider, a T-rex, and a dog made of what looks like jello. It sounds like the beginning of one of those "walk into a bar" jokes, except she doesn't have the slightest of clues what the punchline would be. A chuckle leaves her name at the use of her nickname - she knows her name isn't as hard to say as it is to spell, but even she stumbles over it sometimes. Tady sounds cuter than Schenectady, anyways. "It's nice to meet you all," the Japanese macaque says, smile wide as she addresses all of them. "Thank you for the welcome."