Active Plots (Alphabetical) - Updated 8/21/2010

Can't I Have Any Time? - (Eruantion Doriath [?], Amonost Doriath [?])

End of Solitude - (Verda Stelo [?])

No More Grape Soda - (Alex Dean [?], Samuel Jorgenson [?], Leon Mecheeto [?])

Questionable Means - (Tawny Black [?], Ishkan Ma'z)

Author	Comment
Tom Fender Member of SG&C Wandered the world like Caine from Kung-Fu and got into adventures Dominion Master 2/10/2020 1:27:14 AM Level: 18 Experience: 26800 Total Posts: 96	SG&C Presents: SG&C It was a bright, sunny, and altogether too hot mid-afternoon on the Storms farm slash SG&C headquarters. Chris half-heartedly watched some mind-numbing daytime television program that was muted in the living room as he waited for his bacon to finish baking. Clearly the character on the show had just been told something earth-shattering since the shot lingered on his face as it zoomed in slowly before cutting to commercial, and at this moment the doorbell rang. SG&C's HQ is situated conveniently close to nowhere, and ten times out of ten anyone who shows up either has a key or has a Master Key and is looking for blood, so the doorbell ringing was an unusual and startling turn of events. Chris had completely forgotten he even had one. After a brief moment of hesitation as he tried to remember what traditionally came next, he briefly touched his holstered Px4 to ensure its presence and swept across the room toward the front door. Chris checked the peep hole and saw clear horizon. He peeked through the curtain beside the door and saw part of a body pressed against the wall. He unlocked and, with some effort due to the numerous times the door had been inexpertly re-framed and re-hung after unwelcome breachings, pulled the door open to find a woman slumped lifelessly against the wall, her hand reaching up to the door bell button. Was she dead? Was she a trap? He briefly checked for live grenades, trip mines, or other hazards such as the glare of the sun off a sniper's scope from the distant treeline and, satisfied that there were none of those, proceeded to check for signs of life. She seemed to still be alive, and she was drenched in sweat. He noticed pointy ears poking out from beneath long, dark hair. He also noticed she was a bluish purple. A nifelt¹. He gave her a little shake. "Hey, lady," he tried, "Wake up." ¹ The nifelte², racially speaking, are the grouchy, Luddite, hermit cousins of kiefans which are colloquially known as elves. Someone somewhere has probably called the nifelte "night elves". ² Nifelte is plural. Nifelt is singular. Oh, and their blood is the main ingredient of the original Health Potion™ recipe.
John Gibson 2nd In Command of SG&C Out of Work, Apparently Dominion Master 2/10/2020 2:07:46 AM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 39	RE: SG&C Presents: SG&C About that time, the oven timer started to beep, indicating that the bacon should theoretically be finished, but Chris was too otherwise occupied to turn it off. Beep beep beep beep. ... Beep beep beep beep. ... Beep beep beep beep. John shuffled his raccoon slipper'd feet into the kitchen and mashed the button to cancel the timer. "Yo Chris, bacon," he called dumbly out to the living room, fully aware that if Chris were available to handle it, he would have responded to the timer. John slipped an oven mitt on his hand and reached for the oven door just as Chris came scrap-scrabblin' around the corner into the kitchen, plunging his hand into the over-stacked clean side of the sink, and somehow immediately finding purchase on the only drinking glass hidden within the mountain of pots, mixing bowls, and measuring cups. Chris unleashed the faucet's full might unto the glass, slosh escaping to the rim of the sink, and scrap-scrabbled back out of the kitchen, a little more slosh escaping onto the vinyl floor. John watched this blankly, unmoving, as a cloud of bacon steam puffed from the half-open oven. He slid the tray of bacon out of the oven and deposited it onto a waiting hot pad on the countertop, slipped the oven mitt off of his hand, and shuffled to the living room. There, he saw Chris propping a limp nifelt woman against the front of the couch and looking a little bit lost. John blinked. The woman stirred slightly and let out a ragged groan.  Chris's shoulders dropped in relief. "Hey, drink this," he said, offering the glass of water. The woman reached for the glass of water with both trembling hands, looking as if she might conk out if she moved any faster. Chris kept a careful hold on the glass as the woman tilted it back slowly. She took measured sips, but still began to cough. "Uuuuum," John announced his presence. Whodat? he didn't ask. Chris looked up at John while waving his arms around and jawing silently to indicate his complete lack of answers. After a few coughs, the woman sipped a little more and then lowered the glass. "I'm so sorry," she sputtered hoarsely. She repeated it, a little clearer this time, "I'm so sorry." "It's OK," Chris reassured emptily, since he didn't know what she was apologizing for or if it would, in fact, be OK. "It's... it's been hours. Escaped them. This was the first place I saw." Chris's hand again touched his holstered pistol. "Escaped? Is somebody following you?" The woman's head lolled and her voice slurred into small bursts of unintelligible vocalizations - John recognized the look from when he stayed up way past his bed time. Chris looked up at John, nodded, and mimed racking a rifle's charging handle. John shed his lethargy and immediately moved toward the armory where they kept their most effective assault weapon systems. "Protein..." the woman croaked, finally an understandable word, "and sodium." Chris looked to the kitchen and knew the sacrifice he needed to make.

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