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 Interpersonal Story

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The Longterm Poster

Posts : 3589
Join date : 2011-05-13

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PostSubject: Interpersonal Story   Interpersonal Story Icon_minitime06/03/15, 06:55 am

Miss Murder and the Black Death
Alice Francis - Shoot Him Down

Real Name


Miss Murder

Black Death

Place of Origin


 Auric Mansion, Center City

Center City, Apartments



 suspected between
the age of 25 and 40






Physical Appearance
 6' tall, slender, black hair, pale skin, black swing dress complete with long black gloves and black heels. Dark eyes, red lipstick. 

6'3" tall, thick and burly. Black hair, pale slightly tanned skin. Costume is a black shirt with the punisher symbol on it. 

Modus Operandi
She's a psychotic murderer. Lures men to their doom and generally kills them by snapping their neck in public, usually on the dance floor. 




"Miss Murder, Miss Murder, won't you dance with me? Spin me around the room, just like the devils wheel. Then the world stops and down to the floor I fall. Neck twisted left, neck twisted right. Out of the club you flee, a smile stolen on your lips, and a life floating away." ~ Unknown, circa 1920. 

The night was as young as a newly initiated vestal virgin. Even still John King was as drunk as can be at the club down on Evan's St. Among the first people to arrive at the club as it opened - he sat drinking long before the crowd began to show up. The bartender kept serving up his drinks, and he kept on knocking them back. He was an obvious alcoholic. But he could hold his liquor. Before the night even reached her coming of age, John King was removed from the Club and refused at the others nearby. He walked down Evans Street looking for a place to let him to drink even more. Now he stumbled and he bumbled, leaning into buildings for support, or lamp-posts, and occasionally bumping into people. One person he stumbled into appeared beautifully before him. He made to flirt, but he had had a little too much alcohol at the first, and only, club that night. She lightly put a gloved hand on his shoulder and continued walking on her way. He stood and watched her go before he began to feel dizzy. He stumbled over to a bus stop bench and sat down. He dozed off into a drunken slumber. 

In the club on Evans street where John King had been sitting and drinking, this beautiful lady entered. Her black heels clicked as she walked in and swaggered up to the bar to ask for a drink. The bartender smiled and a toothy smile and slid a mixed drink to her. A mild green colored appletini, sweet enough to take the bite off the alcohol. She flashed him a closed smiled and fluttered her eyes. He continued smiling at her even as she walked away, deeper into the club. His eyes were fastened not on her slim waist, but on the back of her head, in the vain hope that she would turn around and give him another smile. . . .

"Every one believes they are the Good Guy."
A few lies can be used to control the masses. 
The paradox is that I both know and don't know what you feel.
I know your pain. I feel your pain, but it is a fraction of what you feel. 
A Pisces man. Me.An Indigo Person.
Interpersonal Story F75cef2af9b92ac225eae2ada9df0641
Relax, your life is short, we're all going to die. Some are already dead, they just don't know it yet.
During character creation in TES: Arena, choosing the Breton race elicits the following: "Thy race is descended from the ancient Druids of Galen, quick witted and strong in the mystical arts. Thy folks are crafty and intelligent, a learned people who use their gifts to guide others to enlightenment..." There has been no mention of the Druids of Galen since.
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