darkSpyro

Chicago
April 5, 1923

For years you have been close friends with a local dancer at The Auditorium Theatre, Evelyn Blakely. A charming girl with dreams of performing in Hollywood. She’s never been one for getting married or settling down. In fact, unlike most women, she doesn’t even bother with a hat or gloves. She’s a Flapper and a feminist seeking social equality. Perhaps because of this, she vanished one night.
On Thursday, March 4th 1920, you and her other friends had gone to see her show. You had all seen her backstage as she was getting dolled up for her performance, however; she never made it to the stage. She seemed to disappear with only her cigarette hold left behind. The police had many ideas about where she could have gone : She could have ran away to Hollywood, She might have eloped with some man behind her boyfriend’s back, or the gangsters could have gotten her. Years past and all leads seemed to only dry up over time. After three years of searching they declared her deceased and went about their own business. No body ever turned up and her disappearance went on to become a sort of urban legend, a story told to scare other woman fear their feminism.
How ever today, each of you has received a letter from an anonymous sender that simply read the following: “I know what happened to Evelyn Blakely. Meet me in the farthest row to the back right at The Auditorium Theatre. Be there for the 7:00 o'clock show.” Whether looking for a glimmer of hope that Evelyn might still be alive, or the desire for closure, you and her other friends make your way to the theatre to find out what may have happened.

Welcome to the RP!
This is basically going to be a “Call of Cthulhu” Roleplay, so lots of mystery and suspense. And maybe even the unexplainable.
I will be rolling dice to determine the outcome of people’s intended actions. But I won’t roll for everything as I do want the rp to progress at a reasonable pace. Basically there will be no auto hits. And some tasks like, say for example, persuading the police chief to reopen Evelyn’s case will be rolled for.
I will also ask that people try to post a paragraph length response. I understand that is not always possible, but at least try. That being said, please don’t send me a novel.
Anywho, here are the rules.

Rules:
I am the Game Master.
There will be no God Modding.
I am okay with gore, but try to put it in spoilers so that kids on the site don’t accidently read it.
Romance is fine, but don’t do any hot and heavy scenes where children can read it.
Also try not to rush ahead too much. I may be at the computer all day, but unless your character is alone I don’t want to leave anyone behind.
Also, mind your sanity level. (actual numbers in game. You might lose or gain some.)

Character Creation:

I have a few requirements for characters.
You must start with a sanity level of one hundred. Trust me, you’ll need all those points.
You must have a character that is 18 years or older.
And your character is from the 1920s, so keep that in mind for views and character concept.
You will also live in Chicago, as that is the current setting of the game.
Also, please bold the different sections of your character sheet.

Character Sheet:

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Height and Weight:
Appearance:
Bio:
Occupation:
Equipment: ( Just a generally idea of what your character would carry regularly)
Sanity Level: 100
Other:

Example Character:
Name: Evelyn Blakely
Age: 22
Gender: female
Height and Weight: 5'4 120 lbs
Appearance: Evelyn Blakely
Bio: Ever since she was a little girl, Evelyn was absolutely in love with dancing. She admired the life style of singers and dancers in Theaters. As she grew older she became more of a free thinker, this lead to her becoming both a flapper or a feminist. For the last several years she has been working at The Auditorium Theater. Three years ago she disappeared without a trace. Today she is thought to be dead...
Occupation: Dancer
Equipment: Cigarettes, cigarette holder, purse (wallet, make up, etc.) Theater tickets.
Sanity Level: ???
Other: Evelyn left her boyfriend, Nickolas (Nick for short) behind when she went missing. Not even He knows where she is or what happened to her.

OOC: Here's mine at last. I'll need a little time if I want to insert an image.

Name: Bryant
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Height and Weight: 5'8; 139 lbs
Appearance: Small goatee, long, dark brown coat, bluish black hair, green eyes and noticeable sideburns. Occasional brown detective hat.
Bio: A young man raised by his aunt. His father was an upstart detective that was killed in the line of duty when he was barely four. His mother died giving birth. Had a girlfriend for six months, but it didn't worked out. Has learned to respect woman thanks to his aunt, who is secretly fighting for woman rights too.
Occupation: Amateur detective
Equipment: Revolver. Book about crime solving basics. Wallet with money and cards, plus a photo of his late parents. Pipe. Matches. Messenger pigeon he keeps at a pen behind his aunt's house.
Sanity Level: 100
Other: Became a detective to follow his father's legacy, and hopefully discover how exactly did he died. Went to the Auditorium Theater many times in the past when he needed a time off, and interacted with Evelyn a few times backstage.

OOC: Looks good. Accepted. :3

Name: Fenton "Fen" Dannel
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Height and Weight: 5'10, 170
Appearance: Fenton wears blue pants, a brown cotton vest, black stained pointed shoes and a gray long sleeve button up shirt with a black tie, wears a brown trench coat in bad weather. Fenton has naturally messy brown hair that sticks out forward, his eyes are brown and he has a small scar on his left cheek from slicing himself on a jagged rock when he was younger.
Bio: His father a former Pinkerton Agent and musician on the side and his mother a mechanic who spent her time at the baseball diamonds whenever she could, Fenton grew up with all sorts of passions, often solving "mysteries" when a child such as the 'Great Cookie Snatching' (His dog ate it), he never knew much about what his father did as he wasn't told, probably because he wouldn't be able to understand, or that his father's job was so secret he couldn't tell. Often being told not to mess around with dreaming of being a Detective by his father, although curiosity always got the best of him and so did he try his best to follow in his fathers footsteps only to be shut down time after time and again and again. Fenton spent most of his time in his Mother's garage which she inherited from her uncle and ended up working there until he was 18 when he decided he wanted to be a musician like his father who passed away when he was 14, although his true passion in mechanics and his want to be a PI still remained, it was slowly chipped away by his guilt of not spending enough time doing what his father wanted him to do, that being perform. Fenton then took up Saxophone and learned to play by ear, he often plays small 2 star establishments despite his talent and saves money to start his own detective business. Fenton moved to Chicago from Brooklyn when he was younger, but kept his accent.
Occupation: Struggling Musician and Mechanic
Equipment: Cigarettes, cigarette holder, matches, pocket watch with picture of a girl inside, wallet with 20 dollars, packet of fleer bubblegum, babe ruth baseball card, Magnifying Glass, saxophone reeds
Sanity Level: 100
Other: Fenton ran into Evelyn by complete accident, he'd ran into the auditorium to search for a garbage can for his chewing gum and ended up having a conversation with her, he often found excuses to come in an see her afterward, saying he was just there to throw out his gum despite not even chewing any at the time.

ooc: I'm fine with you also having detective roots. You guys have different occupations/skill sets so you guys probably wont overlap too much.
Also, Accepted.

Name: Beatrice Rose “Bea” Rothchilde
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Height and Weight: 5'5” and 95 lbs.

Appearance: Bea has jet black hair cropped in a very short bob. She typically dresses in expensive “flapper” style dresses which show her knees through strings or beads, though she switches to pilot's breeches, hip boots, shirt, vest, aviator's jacket, and scarf when she is flying. Bea uses heavy make-up, even going so far as to rouge her knees. She usually wears gloves and a beaded or feathered headband, though she will don a cloche hat when in formal attire. Bea typically wears strings of pearls and gemmed silver or pearl bracelets that attach to a ring via delicate chains. She generally wears oversized silver and diamond rings as well and silver and gemmed tear drop earrings. Bea speaks in lilting tones with a cultured, New England (specifically Connecticut) accent; her grammar and vocabulary reflects a boarding school classical education. No one who ever saw her would doubt Bea comes from wealth and privilege.

Bio: Bea was an only child born into an old-money, wealthy family in Connecticut. Her father, Clarence, who inherited his wealth as well, worked as an archaeologist more because he enjoyed the adventure than because he needed the money. Clarence also oversaw the family's many business interests; including railroads and textile manufacturing. Her mother, Mildred, was a typical socialite who hosted numerous parties and soirees to entertain her husband's business associates. While Mildred tried to teach her daughter to conduct herself with proper decorum, Clarence was quite indulgent, frequently giving in to Bea's whims.

Growing up, Bea was educated in the finest boarding schools. After her mother passed when she was fourteen, Bea took over the responsibilities as family hostess, and she often traveled home to conduct social events for her father. Bea spent her summers traveling the world with her father on digs. She, of course, attended Miss Porter's finishing school as well as college.

Bea attended Wellesley College; as an undergraduate, to meet her father's expectations, she studied archaeology. As her studies progressed, Bea became more interested in philosophy and psychology in which she earned her Master's and her Doctorate respectively. Bea also attended informal classes in psychiatry at the “Harvard Annex.” While at Wellesley, Bea became interested in the women's suffrage movement; she was thrilled when women won the right to vote in 1920. To this day, Bea is active in the National American Woman Suffrage Association and National Women's Party.

From a young age, Bea was interested in flying. Watching stunt flying at the Cobham Air Show sparked her imagination; from the age of ten, she begged her father to give her flying lessons. As indulgent as he was, her father drew the line at piloting. It was just not seemly for a cultured woman. However, when her father passed in 1920, Bea took some of the money from her inheritance and immediately bought a plane. Once she became an accomplished pilot, Bea started the Rothchilde Aerial Extravaganza, where she performed as a wing walker, barnstormer, and stunt pilot. She also manages her family's businesses which she inherited.

Occupation: Heiress, wing walker, barnstormer, part-time CEO

Equipment: small handbag (make-up, cigarettes, matches, Wrigley's Spearmint gum, wallet with $50 in cash and coin, Brooklawn Country Club membership card, Medinah Country Club membership card, fountain pen, small leather-bound journal, car keys, house keys, office keys, current US passport), cigarette holder, the latest issues of Vogue, The Queen and Harper's Bazaar

Sanity Level: 100

Other: Bea owns both a Curtiss JN-4 “Jenny” biplane and a Wright Model C biplane. She also owns a 1920 Kissel 6-45 Speedster “Gold Bug” and a 1922 Packard Twin Six Model 3-35 Special Runabout. Bea met Evelyn Blakely at a NAWSA meeting. Bea speaks French fluently. She reads and writes both classical Latin and ancient Greek. She has a fair understanding of Hieroglyphics. And she can get the gist of and get her point across in Arabic, though she is by no means fluent.

OOC: Accepted, Mom. Glad you were interested in playing!

OOC: I'm so sorry that this took so long, and that the post will take 5 years to read! I needed to research a lottt about American History during this time since I barely knew anything besides WW1 (and that was near-only stuff that happened in Britain) but here she is!

Name: Annie Elizabeth Chamberlain

Age: 21

Gender: Female

Height and Weight: 5”5’, 125lbs.

Appearance: A rough first sketch. She loves to wear her goggles, gloves and scarves, so much so that she will not leave her house without her aviator eyewear at least around her neck. She tends to dress atypically, with a more masculine drive to her fashion choices. Despite this, she does conform to the more “covered up” appearance of the time. She enjoys wearing blouses and high-waisted long pants / knickers - some of her clothes actually coming from her father. On the contrary, she does own a small collection of feminine clothing. Several long dresses and a pair of heeled black shoes sit at the untouched edges of her wardrobe. Her most-used piece of formal women’s clothing would be a maroon cloche and a long brown coat with a strapped neck to match.

Bio: Annie has always been inquisitive from the days where she could only toddle right through to modern-day, never being afraid to cause a small bit of mischief in the name of discovery, fun or for the pure adrenaline rush. Because of her behaviour that didn’t typically befit a young girl, her mother, Mary Beth, wasn’t the fondest of her; her attention instead spent coddling Annie’s older brother of 6 years, Charles.

Resultingly, she was primarily attended by her father, Arthur James Chamberlain, a wood-carving artist who ran a small shop, and a dreamer. He has always told his sweet Annie that she can do anything, and keeps a very open mind to new situations. Because of his heavy influence in raising her, she heavily believes anyone can be who they want to be, and wears who she is and wants to be proudly on her sleeve and will not change for anyone.

When Annie was 15, her brother and father were drafted for the final stretch of World War 1, leaving her mother to provide by closing down the shop temporarily and labouring in a factory. Annie coped with the anxiety of her family’s absence through reading and self-education, with a subtle bias towards aviation-related media that harshened the more she read. An interest was immediately sparked, and she knew exactly what she was put on the Earth to do. She would often stay at Charles' tailoring shop alone, as her mother did not approve of her ‘impertinent imagination” and try to discard her belongings regarding aviation.

During the war, her mother continued to invite over a ‘friend’ whom she claimed was a bishop she met one day on the way to work. Annie very much found herself abandoned by her mother, who had run away with the slacker the night before their family was due to return. Annie definitely struggled to convey the information to her father and brother, but it was almost as if they had expected it; her father in particular. During the war, her father had shrapnel cause permanent blinding in his left eye, which he covers with an eyepatch. Although Charles was left unscathed, both men were left with a slight case of shell shock, which causes Arthur to have reoccurring and violent nightmares and makes Charles have panic attacks whenever there are sudden loud noises.

Moving on a couple years after the war, Annie would receive the opportunity that she had always dreamed of. For her birthday in 1921, her father lent her enough money for entry to the Rothchilde Aerial Extravaganza, a display of aeronautics that excited the young woman at a mere mention. She was ecstatic that, after the most dazzling and thrilling display of her life, she got an opportunity to personally meet with the stunt pilot who was performing; Beatrice Rose Rothchilde. Not being able to help herself, she gushed all of her passion and love for aviation to the woman, and for her own reasons Bea kept in contact with Annie. Not long after their first meeting and after a few more casual meet-ups, (some of which were at women’s movement meetings), she had displayed a sufficient amount of dedication and knowledge to be offered a position to work underneath Ms. Rothchilde personally, which she near-immediately accepted.

She also writes articles about social movements and mechanical science as a side-job to earn extra money, using the initials A. E. Chamberlain as a way to keep her identity androgynous, as she believes it’ll result in more reliable publishers.

She met Evelyn at a NAWSA meeting when they were both young adults, and found common ground incredibly easily. On leisure time, she very much enjoyed visiting her and watching her performances. She was thrilled to learn that her mentor and friend Bea also knew the girl, and would occasionally spark a conversation with her about how lovely and radiant the performer was, and that she misses her greatly but is hopeful that she will be found safe.

Occupation: Apprentice aviator, personal mechanic for Bea, engineering and activism journalist, wannabe aviator pioneer.

Equipment: A slightly worn leatherette bag with her journal, along with her fountain pen, awkwardly folded and unused drafts of her entries, a few mechanical knick-knacks (particularly cogs), her father's old leather wallet with loose pennies, a comb and a convenient-sized bottle of McIlhenny's Tabasco Brand Pepper Sauce - just in case.

Sanity Level: 100

Other: Annie is tomboyish, free-spirited and confident, with a playful sense of humour and just a bit naive. Needless to say, she is a suffragette and firm believer in women's rights and will try to attend as many major meetings (particularly NAWSA and the NWP) as possible. In her room, she has a drawer on her desk dedicated to the Wright Brothers’ work, including newspaper scraps, transcripted diary entries, papers and logs and a few cut-out photographs of their earliest planes, as well as their portraits. Wants to one day be able to safely transport a large number of people across the oceans in a flying machine. Despite her knowledge and attachment to typical aviator gear (e.g. the goggles), she has not actually piloted a plane.

//This is Lunarz, Just so no one is confused I made a new account so I'll be roleplaying with this
Damn all your guys sheets are novels compared to mine cx Guess I have some studying to do//

OOC: Aceepted Bear. I'll post a starting post in a little bit when I get out of my DnD game.

Auditorium Theatre, Chicago, Illinois.
6:45 pm, April 5, 1923

It’s a busy night in Chicago. The streets are filled with cars going to who-knows-where and people going out for some night-time entertainment. The drizzling rain seems to have no effect on the crowd growing in front of the Auditorium Theatre. Men, women, whites, and colored folks all seem to be gathered to seem the 7:00 pm dance show. Had things not lead down this path, perhaps Evelyn would be performing tonight.

There are two lines, one at the ticket booth and one at the entryway where a man is collecting tickets. As you approach the entry way you recognise each other in line. All being friends of Evelyn Blakely it doesn’t seem all that surprising; perhaps they had received the same letter that you had. As you grow closer to the entryway, you end up in line next to each other. From inside you can smell the of typical theatre refreshments. Thunder cracks overhead, but even that cannot tone down the sound of Theatre goer’s speaking and merriment. It would only be a moment before you reach the entry way.

What do you do?

ooc: Sorry that took so long. I kinda lost track of time while listening to the adventure zone.

OOC: You know, you could've edited the last post to avoid doubles

The young lad Bryant, having received a mysterious letter, was waiting in line like everyone else, though what performance could there be with their main star nowhere to be found? Bryant had initially helped with the investigation of Evelyn's disappearance, when he was but a mere student learning the trade. He knew Evelyn from his mid teens, when his aunt once took him to the theater to see one of her exquisite performances and afterwards managed to sneak out backstage to meet her in person, where a friendship began. Unfortunately, three years ago, she disappeared without a trace, and after a while, her case went cold. It was as if she was swallowed up by the earth or disintegrated out of thin air. Although Bryant initially studied to be a detective to learn about his father's bizzare death, he now had two cases that needed to be solved. Just how mediocre the police was? Or was it that they were hiding something? Was the government involved? Or something bigger? Bryant wanted to find out no matter the cost.

Receiving the mysterious invitation, there is no doubt in Bea's mind that she absolutely must attend. To that end, she immediately drives to the theater to purchase a ticket for a seat in the far right of the back row. With questions about Evelyn's disappearance bubbling back to the forefront of her mind, Bea makes preparations for the evening. She carefully chooses her dress and accessories for the evening. She must, of course, make the right impression. As evening approaches, Bea dresses and does her hair and make-up. Once she has dolled up well enough to make the right sort of impression for a Rothchilde at a formal affair, she drives her Packard to the theater aiming to arrive about twenty minutes early.

Arriving at the theater, Bea parks and steps out of her car. She pulls out a cigarette as she joins the line of those who already have tickets. Seeing several friends and acquaintances, Bea waves politely in greeting.

Annie anxiously stood in line, her eyes only occasionally wandering from the letter that she had received. She had read it multiple times now, analysing and obsessing over every word, trying to web out who the sender could possibly be.
She had recieved her ticket in the envelope alongside the cryptic note, which drew her in to the event even more; she would have financially struggled to pay for a ticket in her current circumstances. The thought repeatedly came to her that perhaps the sender knew this, but each time she dismissed it with a nervous reassurance, not wanting to entertain the implications if that were the truth.

After one final reading of the letter, Annie neatly folded it and slotted it into the torn envelope within her leatherette. A sigh escaped her lips as she scanned the line, snagging on a very familiar face. She pushed her cloche up a little bit, as to reveal her face, with her gloved hand as she walked over to Bea. As she shuffled her way over to Bea, Annie recognised another person she knew, and gave a shy yet polite smile and wave to Bryant.

"Ma'am Rothchilde, good evening! I had no idea you were attendin' tonight!..." she started, taking a brief pause to dwell on her thoughts. "Did you perchance get an invitation, too?"

While Annie was wearing her finest clothes for the event, she was in awe at how fashionable and eye-catching Bea's outfit was in comparison to Annie's own demure and traditional style.

Bryant only gave a nod and a small wave in return, and let the women talk alone. He wasn't feeling very good tonight. He just got off the bar after a drink, needing it after spotting a woman that had uncanny resemblance to his former girlfriend. An invitation to a theater where a former friend disappeared only added to his depression, and couldn't help but wonder who exactly wrote the letter. He or she had to know them well, since the writer apparently knew who Evelyn's friends were. If Beatrice and Annie were there that very night too, there was no way that could be a coincidence, and overhearing Annie mentioning a letter only confirmed that indeed someone wanted them there tonight...

Bea smiles as Anne approaches and greets her. "Good evening, Anne," she says, in her cultivated Connecticut tones. "But please, we're not at work. Just plain Bea is fine." She smooths her dress, making sure it flows properly, not clinging to her sides.

Taking a puff of her cigarette, Bea answers some of Anne's questions. "I had no idea I would be coming this evening, either. A trip to the theater wasn't on my social calendar. But yes, I received a rather mysterious invitation, and whether it proves to be genuine or just a hoax, I simply had to see if the sender is telling the truth. I do so wish to see Evelyn again."

Feeling slightly nervous, Bea idly plays with the long strand of pearls around her neck, worrying the beads to keep from more overt gestures like pacing.

"It does feel odd to be here at the Auditorium without Evelyn," Bea muses half to herself, half to Anne.

Annie was taken slightly aback from the correction, giving a light nervous chuckle.

"Apologies ma- ahem, Bea."

She let the older woman speak, nodding gently along to her words, focusing on the glimmering strand of pearls she was fiddling with.

"I see the contents were also similar in your own note... I feel the exact same way. I can't shake off the thought that she's okay!" Annie responded, accidentally letting her voice go from a calm semi-secretive voice to an excited tone. She cleared her throat, feeling slightly embarrassed and in an attempt to shed any attention the sudden loudness might have given the pair.

"I only ever came here for her, honestly. I suppose that still hasn't changed, literally speaking..." Annie mused, shuffling further down the ever-shortening line with Bea. She couldn't help but let her gaze fall to Bryant every now and again, resisting temptation to beckon him over and see if he was there for the same reason.

Bryant continued to ignore the two ladies, instead focusing his attention on the letter he received. He wasn't sure if it was the exact same letter the other two received, but nevertheless, he began the search on his own. He read that letter over and over again, upside down, the other way around and from up and down, looking for any clues that would indicate a hidden message or anything that would give away who the writer was, or perhaps discover if this was a trap. Bea and Annie knew Evelyn, as did he, so it seemed too much coincidence that they were all called there tonight. Whoever wrote that letter, chances are that it had something to do with Evelyn and not tonight's performance.

Bea glances ahead, trying to judge how much longer it will take for them to reach the door. She is anxious to meet the mysterious sender of the letter, and patience is not exactly one of Bea's virtues. She does her best to hide her impatience. Her finishing school education insists too much restless motion is unladylike.

To distract herself, Bea looks in the direction that Anne keeps looking. Seeing the man she keeps glancing at, Bea recalls seeing him in some of the same circles with Evelyn. Interesting.

Bea turns her attention back to Anne. "You could invite him to join us if you like. I think he's a friend of Evelyn's as well.

The line moves up until it is time to present your tickets. The man at the door will look them over and then direct you to your seat. Bryant is the first to make it to the back row, followed shortly by Bea and Annie. The theater is buzzing with people talking among themselves. You are the only ones back there at the moment. Soon the show will start.

"Good evening, sir," Bea says to the man who sits in our row, the same man Anne had been eyeing up earlier. "Please don't think me presumptuous, but might I ask you a few questions? Some of them may seem a bit... odd."

Bryant was for a moment deaf in attention. He was wearing a tuxedo and he had combed his hair to look presentable for the performance. He felt so weird in that outfit. He was too used to his long coat and detective hat, but if he wanted to get anything done, he believed he had to be secretive about his profession, even if he kinda suspected that the sender of that letter knew very well who he was. It was after a few seconds that he realized one of the women besides him spoke.
"Oh, my apologies ma'am, but did you say something to me?" he asked, wanting to make sure the question was addressed to him. He has seen these two ladies, and he knew they were friends of Evelyn as well, but he never stopped to know them carefully and only knew them by appearance.

"Yes, sir," Bea says, politely repressing her annoyance at having to repeat herself. A lady should never lose her temper, especially not in public. "I had requested your permission to ask you some questions. Perhaps some odd ones. May I?"

"Well, fire away." Bryant said in a neutral voice, a bit uneasy with the fact at being talked to. He had thought of spending that evening to himself and his thoughts, but he was too much of a gentleman to dismiss a classy lady like Bea, and it didn't matter what kind of questions she asked. In what little time Bryant has spent in his line of work, he had seen and heard many bizzare things.

"Please forgive me, sir," Bea says. "I fear I have been rude as well as forward. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Beatrice Rose Rothchilde, of the Connecticut Rothchildes. And this is my friend, Annie Chamberlain."

"As to the matter of my questions... First off," Bea says, "You look quite familiar to me, but I must confess, I cannot recall your name. Should I know you, sir? Perhaps through Miss Evelyn Blakely?"

"I'm an old friend of hers. Name's Bryant..." he answered quietly, being no secret that he wasn't in high spirits that night. He heard Bea's name through Annie just earlier, when he heard them talking in the line. However, he has heard Bea's name long before that, though he wasn't certain where or when. Perhaps, like she said, it was due to Evelyn.
"You're here tonight... because of a letter?" he immediately asked, having spotted the letter the two women were holding, and since they knew Evelyn as well, he couldn't help but to think that the circumstances of their meeting were the same as him.

We still accepting?

Name:Fisher Watson
Age:22
Gender:Male
Height and Weight:5'8 and 162.5 lbs
Appearance:Has black hair, usually wears a bright blue jacket, although if he isn't wearing it, probably some silly shirt. Usually wears sweat pants, and wears blue/green tennis shoes. He also wears an eye-patch(Not like Nick Fury eyepatch, think of the one Mei Misaki wears)
Bio:Fisher has always been a smart creative person, always enjoying the bright side of the world. Sure, he knows that there is dark side to the world he lives in, but he doesn't usually consider that part. When he was younger, he had some surgical procedure that involved his eye, and it had to be removed and replaced with a prothstetic eye. He doesn't like the eye, so he stole and eye-patch and wears that over his fake eye. He does have a depressive side, and does sometimes have some serious problems, including anger issues, but for the most part he is quite calm and collected. He also currently is working in the film industry as a script writer, a relativly new job, that gives him creative freedom
Occupation:Script Writer for Silent films
Equipment:A pocket knife for protection, wallet, wrist watch
Sanity Level: 100
Other:Despite his happy-go-lucky nature, he doesn't like talking to other people, and doesn't like them touching him or entering his personal bubble. He met Evelyn while at one of her dance concerts, which he goes to to take stress away. Before the show began, Fisher bumped into Evelyn, and they had a short conversation before the show began. They grew as friends after that occasion.

"Why yes, Mr. Bryant," Bea says with a smile. "And that was precisely the next question I was going to ask you. So perhaps it won't seem quite so odd after all. I, too, know Miss Evelyn Blakely; we became acquainted some time ago at a NAWSA meeting. It all seems so mysterious, doesn't it? An anonymous letter, an invitation to the theater, the hope of solving a mystery and finding a dear friend... Well, I am a patron of this theater, so perhaps that part isn't so mysterious, but the rest seems like something out of an Agatha Christie novel, does it not?"

"It is." Bryant answered out of politeness, not willing to admit he never read a book by such an author. He never had the time for such hobbies, being too concentrated on his work.
"Did you find any leads on who the author of this letter may be? We all know Evelyn personally, and the fact that we were called here tonight, at the very same time, it means somebody knows us... and Evelyn." Bryant analyzed, not being a firm believer in coincidences. Somebody wanted them there tonight. Deep inside, he had hope that the author was Evelyn herself. Her case went cold because there wasn't a body, or a ransom letter in the place where she was last seen, so Bryant had expected that the reason was because of her hiding from something... or someone. He didn't believed the police's story that said she ran away. She wouldn't leave without telling her dear friends where she went, would she? So many odd things were happening in that town, and Bryant had been unable to get any peace of mind thinking of all the mysterious occurrences happening lately.

"No," Bea confesses a bit sheepishly, "I must admit, it never occurred to me to investigate the sender of the letter before attending this evening's performance. I was just hoping to learn more tonight. Did you have more foresight, Mr. Bryant? And if so, were you successful in your inquiries?"

Bryant took a little while to answer, disappointed in the fact that he couldn't discover who could possibly be the sender, but not even a suspect in mind.
"I analysed the letter in more ways I care to explain. Everything. Even under different lights and not even a glimpse or a clue on who this person can be. The writing style is not from somebody I know." he answered, still hoping the author was Evelyn even if the letters looked nothing like her writing. Perhaps she changed it?
"Nevertheless, we have to be careful on tonight's occurrences. Tonight's performance may be more than just a simple act, or perhaps the sender will meet us here during or after it ends. We have to be very alert. Many odd things are happening lately and I can't help but to think somebody is pulling the strings." Bryant warned, feeling surprisingly at ease with talking to Bea, who was practically a stranger to him. However, he maintained a secret that Evelyn's disappearance wasn't the only bizzare event he had experienced, but Evelyn's case was the main concern at the moment. He wanted Bea and her companion to be on high guard that night, knowing he couldn't deal with this alone. He may not believe in coincidences, but he did believed in conspiracies. It was so weird that two cases so close to each other went cold like that. It had to be more than simple mediocrity of the police's part.

During the entire conversation, Annie gave no input and tried to hide her discomfort the best she could. She took in every word, and the most she has said was a meek 'good evening' when Bea introduced her to Bryant.

To her, it was obvious that there was an unusual game going on.

"I shall do my best to be vigilant," Bea promises Mr. Bryant, "Though I am not sure entirely what to watch out for. All of this mystery and intrigue is certainly well outside my normal purview."

Almost as an afterthought, Bea glances around the theater, trying to see if anyone seems to be taking an unusual interest in her or any of Evelyn's other friends here in the back row.

As if on queue when the lights dimmed down and the performance started a man approached. He was wearing a uniform fitting for the theater staff, his eyes covered by the shadows of the dark theater. He was white, with no other distinctive features. He sat down in the seat closest to the door. He seemed to just be intent on watching the performance for a moment before he spoke without so much as looking toward you three.
"I presume you are here about dear miss Evelyn? I.. have some information you might find valuable."

Bryant raised his head but didn't turn around, wanting the next conversation to be as discrete as possible.
"I assume then... that the letter the three of us received was your doing?" Bryant asked with the same, quiet tone, resisting the urge to look at the employee in the eyes. In his line of work, he has learn not to draw attention to himself or to the ones accompanying him, and it was hard to him to trust somebody. Annie and Bea were in this mess too thanks to the letter, so he knew they would have to be involved in the investigation.

Bea watches the uniformed theater employee as he approaches. But when he starts speaking without looking at them, she understands his desire to be discreet. Though Bea really wants to study him, to learn something about him from his expressions, she forces herself to turn around and keep her eyes on the stage below.

"Please don't keep us in suspense, Mr...." Bea fishes for his name even though she does not expect to get it. With the skills learned in finishing school, Bea pitches her voice to reach their mysterious speaker without traveling any further -- a skill no harder than ensuring one can only be heard at one's own table. "We have waited so long for news of our dear Miss Evelyn Blakeley."

(OOC)
Is my character accepted or no?

Just wondering

ooc: Um, you would have to change up you're back story because a little with Evelyn because it is canon that she has not been offered a place in a film or any kind of Hollywood business. She would have jumped at the opportunity. But as it stands, she's happy to be a dancer. Or, rather, was before she went missing.

ALSO @everyone: I'm gonna post in the game when bears gets a chance to post.
-

Quote: NightBlade

ooc: Um, you would have to change up you're back story because a little with Evelyn because it is canon that she has not been offered a place in a film or any kind of Hollywood business. She would have jumped at the opportunity. But as it stands, she's happy to be a dancer. Or, rather, was before she went missing.

ALSO @everyone: I'm gonna post in the game when bears gets a chance to post.
-

OOC:Ahh, okay, I'll do so

Annie didn't quite know how to react to the man, and could almost not hear him due to sitting the furthest away. Because of this, she had shuffled forwards from the rest of her seat a little bit, angled to get a better ear in on what the man was saying. She took off her hat and held it under her arms, after dabbing off a bead of sweat from her forehead with her glove.

Upon hearing Evelyn's name, an unusual chill ran its way down the young girl's spine, causing a subtle flinch in her arms, that caused her to recoil them in a neat fold on her lap from a loose position. Although she was looking straight at the man, the shadows obscured him to the point where she couldn't even map out his features. Giving a brief glance to the other two, and very quickly picking up on their discreet nuances, Annie swallowed a lump in her throat and repositioned herself into less of an angle, but still facing towards the man in a more social way, typically of this kind of group gathering.. She, too, looked head on at the main stage although not focusing on anything that was going on, instead making sure to pay extra close attention to her hearing.

ooc: Sorry for the delay.

@Fisher Watson
You enter the theater a little bit late, as the show is starting. You see in the row the letter told you to sit in two women and two men. Both of the two women and one man you recognize as friends of Evelyn Blakely, the other man a stranger that you can't make out the features of. They seem engaged in conversation.

@Everyone
The man's lips twitch at a smile as he begins to search for something in his pockets. "My name is not important, but I can guarantee that you will find out exactly what happened to your dear friend Evelyn..." He begins to pull something from his pocket, it shines as it catches the light. But before he can pull it out completely you hear a soft noise and the man slumps back into his seat, not moving nor breathing. His hat has fallen off to real that the man has no facial features about the nose, and in the middle of his forehead there is a gun shot wound. The person sitting next to him (one of you) has a small amount of black blood splattered on your clothing.

Your attention is draw to a gruff man standing in the row in front of you, His features are weathered, his hair and beard a little rough for this establishment. He his dressed with the kind of detective hat and clothing you'd see in a movie. He is holding a pistol with a long chamber on the end of it -- a silencer.

In the midst of this you turn your head back to where the staff member should lie dead. He is gone, with only some black spattered blood and a steel dagger left in his place. The gruff man snaps a finger for your attendionHis eyes are narrowed and his voice sounds almost like someone took a grater to his vocal chords. "Come with me in you want to live."

Bea goes decidedly green as she realizes a man has been murdered just in front of her. ~Not a man,~ the subconscious part of her brain screams. Men have noses...~ But her rational waking, self cannot come to terms with that revelation at the moment. One shock at a time.

~Don't scream!~ she orders herself. ~You are not some timid housewife in a dime store novel. You are a Rothchilde, of the Connecticut Rothchildes, and you will conduct yourself with dignity at all times.~ Bea forces herself to study the features of the man holding the gun. The police may want a description later.

"You killed him!" Bea exclaims, the long habits of her social training reminding her to pitch her voice softly, so as to only be heard by those close to her. "Why would we go anywhere with you?" she asks. "If you are going to shoot us, I'd rather it done where there are witnesses."

Bea's hands shake, but she folds them together to hide this fact. She does her best to compose her face to hide the depth of her distress. "I would expect that you will identify yourself immediately," she orders, "If you do not wish for me to contact the constabulary."

Bryant was about to greet the newcomer when the messy event took place. That gunshot wound couldn't be more visible. No doubt that man was dead. He has seen dead bodies many times in his job, but this was the first time he has witnessed an actual murder. He regained his composure in a matter of seconds though, knowing that his job involved remaining calm and rational despite the situation. He held Bea's hands tightly to try to make her calm down. He knew women were more sensible in these situations, so he wanted her and Annie to remain as calm as possible.
"Sir, I don't know who you are, but you better put that gun down!" he threatened, trying to sound respectful but rough. This gruff man had detective clothes, but were too exaggerated, too obvious. Bryant doubted this man was a detective or even a policeman. Nobody kills in a public place out of the blue like that. Bryant had his own gun ready in case the man intended to kill them as well. He was so angry. They were about to learn about Evelyn's fate and here comes this man ruining the opportunity to know.

Bea smiles at Bryant when he takes her hands. She appreciates the warmth and the gesture. While Bea prides herself on being an independent woman, it is comforting to know she is not alone.

"Jesus," Watson says in his mind, "Who does that guy think he is?" The mysterious man just shot the invitor with a silencer. For some reason, he had a thought about the police, but he quickly whipped it away, because, the police wouldn't show up just to shoot an innocent man. Despite the fact that this man shot the person who invited them in, he felt somewhat safe with this person. So he got up from his seat.

"Alright," Watson says to the man

"Hold your ground." Bryant ordered to Watson, wondering who in their right mind would simply come with somebody that just shot a man in cold blood in front of them and still had the gun. It was in these times he was glad he had brought his own. He was ready to shoot without hesitation if the man forced him to.

The man with seems a little surprised that a woman is standing her ground out of all people but quickly dismisses his surprise. "We don't have time for this; we have to leave now! There's no telling how many of them there are here..." He glances over his shoulder for a moment. "Unlike me, they don't need you alive. So unless you plan to stay that way we have to leave. Now!" He states, violently motioning for you to move towards the door. His voice is raised enough that some of the theater staff turn towards the group. Much like the man who had sat next to you many of them do not have distinguished features above the nose.

Bryant still had a hard time believing him, and demanded answer.
"Just hold it right there. We're not going anywhere unless you tell us what this is about. Who is them?" Bryant asked defiantly, having one hand holding a nervous Bea and the other grasping the revolver tied around his waist. He didn't have a silencer on it, so Bryant really didn't want to use it, knowing it would cause tremendous panic if he did. But there they were, with this mysterious man who just shot another in cold blood and that was claiming that somebody wanted them dead, and that supposedly was trying to help. What was he suppose to do in a situation like this? He was a detective, but he was still just a very young rookie who was starting to get nervous himself. What to do? Right now, the performance was not important. He knew now that it was their very lives the ones at risk here. Bryant wanted to maintain a brave face for the sake of the women, but it was getting harder every moment.

The man lets out a frustrated growl, gaining the attention of those in the row behind him. "Look, I'll answer any questions you have when we get some place safe! Right now-" He is cut off as another staff member with a dagger like the one of in the chair your inviter comes running. Like the dead, missing 'man' you can not make out his features. The two struggle with each other. There are screams in the crowd and you can hear another gun shot; although, you cannot see where it hits; if it hits. The man with the gun yells at the four of you as more staff of the faceless staff members with daggers begin to approach, "Run!"

Bryant wanted to grab his revolver and start shooting too, but who to hit? Worse still, what if he hit an innocent? In the heat of the moment, he still maintained his reasoning, and knew running away was the best option.
"GO! LET'S GO!" Bryant yelled on top of his lungs to the people around, leaving his revolver where it was and grabbing the two women with him. Whoever the newcomer was, he would have to run away by himself. Bryant already had his hands full leading the other two companions to the exit. He felt so guilty for being unable to do more, and he cringed to think what other innocents were being victims at the moment, but he couldn't do anything else in his current position...