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Pseudopolis Yard RPG

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  Quote Quark Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Topic: Pseudopolis Yard RPG
    Posted: 09 Aug 2010 at 2:21am



'To Serve the Public Trust, Protect the Innocent, and Seriously Prod Buttock'
-- Constable Dorfl, Feet of Clay.

From a pack of social outcasts to a towering multi-ethnic force, the Ankh-Morpork City Watch has protected the city from dragons, war, revolution and kings, and every day they still go out and tramp the stubbornly dangerous and unruly streets of the largest and smelliest city in the multiverse. They say that any newcomer to Ankh-Morpork can get a job in the Watch, no matter what their race or species, and can be put to good work.

Ah, you can see where this is going, can't you?

PSEUDOPOLIS YARD
A City Watch RPG

This is an open-ended canon RP centered around the main Watch house and spreading throughout Ankh-Morpork - as you can expect, it's in Pseudopolis Yard. There is no definite storyline as of yet, so you are free to do whatever you want with your characters. Speaking of which, it is a canon RP, which means you can either control existing characters or create and use your own OCs (Original Characters). 

List and details of the existing Watch characters can be found at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ankh-Morpork_City_Watch#Members
Detailed map of Ankh-Morpork: http://castrow.com/TP/ankh%20morpork%20map.jpg (WARNING! 6.3mb file)
Street map of Ankh-Morpork, put together by players of the Discworld MUD: http://maps.gothmudders.com/ankh-mor.gif (Note the orientation)
Feel free to ask any questions you may have in the OOC thread for the admins or GM.


Characters in use:

Quark
-Sergeant Detritus
Janowyn
-Sergeant Angua
Fionesta
-Constable Visit
-Constable Dorfl
Sjoerd3000
-Constable Bluejohn


Color #FF0000 is reserved for GM and/or forum admins
"Oh god, he's got an arm that shoots BEES. BEEEES!"
-- Minicrit
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  Quote Quark Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 11 Aug 2010 at 2:48pm
The fog hung low over the city, clinging to everything, stationary or no, like a sticky blanket. It was coming around the time of year when the famous Ankh-Morporkian smog began to form, and this fog was shaping up well: Native Morporkians could tell as surely as wine connoisseurs when a potent batch filled their mouths. To be more accurate, it filled their mouths, noses, ears, half-choked them and generally left them gasping in the nearest bar. You were lucky if the solid particles you inhaled were digestible.
Sergeant Detritus sniffed noisily and looked up at what he judged to be the moon, although from street level it could just as easily be a rooftop window. He was not, it had to be said, the most intelligent of trolls, but even he distrusted the fog: Anything you couldn't see was dangerous, he reasoned. You couldn't hit it, otherwise.
"So," he said to the hunched figure beside him, which crouched in the gutter and looked out from several heavy black wraps of cloth that wound around its face. Perched on its head, clamped over the thick strands of hair, was a steel helmet.
"So?" It was a kind of mournful hiss.
"First guard dooty, eh?"
The figure nodded imperceptibly, the deep folds of its cloak shifting slightly. There was an uncomfortable silence, in which the troll managed to notice a change in atmosphere.
"Fog's getting ficker," he said, doing his best to hold a conversation of some kind. Nobby and Colon, who normally came out with him, tended to be fairly talkative and usually entertaining, while all he had to do was occasionally nod and give one-word comments. It seemed there was an unfair reversal of roles somewhere here.
The two creatures stared up and down the street, both lost in their own thoughts (or, in Detritus's case, thought). Eventually, the second figure coughed and looked up.
"Tell me," it said. "What exactly are we doing?"
"Uh... Traffic duty. We look out for traffic off fences."
"What are they?"
The troll shuffled from one slab to the next uneasily.
"Er... if someone is driving a cart without..." he broke into a sweat, "re-quire-d due care and a-tten-tion, we can arrest them, see? And if they park it in the wrong place, or if they squash someone under the wheels..."
The second figure didn't answer. It had obviously heard enough.

"Oh god, he's got an arm that shoots BEES. BEEEES!"
-- Minicrit
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  Quote DrWho7Freak Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 13 Aug 2010 at 10:55am
Constable Dorfl is done in #FF6600
Constable Visit is done in #FF9900
 
The other side of the road two other Watchmen were also lost in the fog.  Well, one Watchman and One WatchGolem.  The clay man had red glowing eyes so he (as Golems were sort of man-made from clay they were generally sexless but, with new-found freedom of choice; they decided to give each other sexes, this particular one decided to be a male), did not have a problem with the Fog.  The other one was particularly superstitious.
"Are Your Visionary Senses Troubled By This Effervescent Cloud, Constable Visit?"
 
Constable Visit ... or to say his full name: Constable Visit-The-Infedil-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets - blew on his hands.  "I tell you, Dorfl, this fog is the judgement of Om.  I must have sinned somewhere on the way!"
 
"Ankh-Morpock Has An Almost Constant Presence Of Fog," Dorfl replied calmly.
 
"Hah!" snorted the Omnian.  "That proves it then, Ankh-Morpork has the highest percentage rate of sins.  Sometimes I think I may as well pack my bags and go back home.  No one in this city listens!"
 
Dorfl considered this pessimistic comment then replied with a simple: "Yet!"
 
"Pardon?"
 
"I Said Yet.  No One Is Listening Yet.  You Never Know.  I Talk To You."
 
"But you do not believe."
 
"I Still Enjoy Our Discussions!"
 
Visit folded his arms and stamped his feet on the cobbles in an effort to keep warm.  "In Omnia it is always warm.  Proof, if proof were needed, that this city is suffering from the d*amnation of Om!"
 
Dorfl thought his friend was exaggerating or just plain grumpy.  He decided to get to the bottom of Visit's surliness.
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  Quote Sjoerd3000 Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 13 Aug 2010 at 2:07pm
Through the fog a crowd emerged it was constable Bluejohn. Evening, He nodded to Detritus and his companion.
Mister Vimes wants us to go to the Alchemist's guild. Dis Alchemist guy been hit on the head. He's dead Buejohn added just in case that wasn't clear. Have you seen Angua sarge?
Captain Carrot is already there, but Mister Vimes wants Angua there.
He shrugged his massive shoulders Been all over the city can't find her. 
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  Quote Quark Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 13 Aug 2010 at 5:57pm
Sergeant Detritus is #336699
The other one is #990033

"A murder?"
roared Detritus, standing stiffly enough to be used as a load-bearing column. "Wots all dis standing around like a load of poultry for, den? Hurry up!"
For a policeman on a chilly night, he covered the ground with admirable speed, shadowed by the hunched figure as it moved with a curious hunting gait through the fog. The party halted outside the Alchemists Guild, which was remarkably quiet.
"Are you quite sure that one of them didn't just blow themselves up?" the creature remarked dryly. "I've heard stories about these alchemists."
"Oh god, he's got an arm that shoots BEES. BEEEES!"
-- Minicrit
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  Quote Sjoerd3000 Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 14 Aug 2010 at 3:55pm
Asterion is #66300
 
Asterion was on watch in front of the Alchemists Guild. So far he liked Ankh-Morpork. He worked outside which was a revelation after all those years in the labyrinth. He must have spent hundreds of years in the labyrinth of Ephebe which meant he had the patience for standing guard. Besides that he had never encountered fog he found it quite interesting. He swivelled his head to one side when he heard (and smelled)Detritus, Bluejohn and the banshee approach. He saluted to Detritus (his helmet had been a problem but some blacksmith had made two holes into it for his horns) Evening sarge it's definitely murder guy has his head bashed in. Mister Vimes is inside with Captain Carrot he wants you to report to him immediatly. Bluejohn and I have to keep guard. Mister Vimes doesn't want de Worde to poke his nose into this.
 
With Bluejohn next to him Asterion could take up his knitting again he was making himself a scarf, Ephebe had been warmer.
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  Quote Quark Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 14 Aug 2010 at 4:48pm
Vimes is #CC3300

Leaving the two other Watchmen to stand guard outside, Detritus raised one massive fist and thumped the guild door, making a splintering noise that echoed through the Street of Alchemists. From somewhere inside, there was a terrified-sounding thump, followed by hurried footsteps. A series of complicated clunks reverberated through the door, and, after an expectant pause, a small window slid open near the top.
"Hello?" came a timid voice, a single eye swiveling through the gap. Detritus saluted.
"It are der Watch!" he shouted. "Open up, or we break down the do--"
"Alright, alright, give me a moment," said the person on the other side, closing the hatch and presumably operating further locking mechanisms. Finally, with a metallic screech, the door slid open.
"Mister Vimes sent us," said Detritus, looking down at the unfortunate alchemist on door duty. He was wearing a steel spherical helmet with a glass visor and, incongruously but perhaps not unexpectedly, an eyepatch.
"Right... right this way, officer. They're all in the kitchen, where it... where it happened." He gulped noisily. "Your names, please? It's just a formality, I know, but we really need to--"
"Sergeant Detritus," grinned the troll, showing a mouth full of industrial-quality diamond. "An' this is Constable Griezsa."
Griezsa raised her hand in some interpretation of a greeting, two slightly mournful eyes glaring out from under the dark hood.
"Ye gods, she's a bansh..." he paused, immobilized by the constable's expression. "Sorry. Right this way, officers."

The alchemists had a theory about cooking: It was good practice. After all, if you could turn a pound of meat, several dried tubers and a tin of plant pulses into sausages, beans and mash, how hard could it be to turn lead into gold, or carbon into diamonds? All alchemy starts in the kitchen.
And for this reason, alchemists are excellent cooks.
The pair entered the massive room, staring around in wonder at the place where the expertise began. Massive cookers, capable of doing a roast in ten seconds flat as long as you didn't mind eating raw charcoal, stood in a line along one wall, with hundreds of variously specialised utensils hanging over them. Mechanical processors, bottles of mysterious compounds and rows of dirty dishes, some of them evidently utilized for the alchemists' work, littered the work benches. And, lying face down on the pristine floor, a body. Commander Vimes stood over it grimly, dictating to Carrot.
"...and it looks as though it was some kind of blunt instrument, put that in, will you? Ah, Sergeant Detritus."
"Sah!" the troll saluted smartly, swaying slightly from the impact.
"And our... new recruit," Vimes said, less enthusiastically, then recovered. "Anyway, will you two check for evidence until I'm ready to talk to you? We'll gather as much as we can before we send it back to Littlebottom."


"Oh god, he's got an arm that shoots BEES. BEEEES!"
-- Minicrit
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  Quote Jano Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 14 Aug 2010 at 11:37pm
Angua is #666699
Quin is #663366
 
Angua glared at her cousin, Tarquinius, who had just arrived in the city after being accepted as a Lance-Constable. She had been showing him around some of the more 'interesting' parts of the Shades when she had finally received a message from Commander Vimes as they were proceeding  back to the Yard. "No you can't come with me Quin. You've not taken the Oath yet, so just go and get settled in the probationers lodgings and I'll see you again tomorrow I expect." 
Quin shrugged and tried giving her a winning smile, but of course she was immune to charm within the family "Oh, alright then - it was worth a try." He hadn't come to Ankh-Morpork to learn the quickest way to the Thieves Guild or be lectured on their licencing conditions. But Angua was an Officer and he was a Lance-Constable so he'd have to stay within the hierarchy - on duty anyway...
"There's nothing that marvellous about the Alchemist Guild anyway - lots of smells and all them chemical or pungent or both!"
 
It was 3 days before the full moon when she was never in the best of moods, without being saddled with a rookie let alone from her own extended family. She had nearly asked Carrot to assign another Watchmen to 'buddy' with Quin, but it made sense for her to partner him, so he learned the right way to use his skills. He'd pick up city ways quickly she was sure, as he'd hardly caused a ripple of adverse attention in the Mended Drum. Increasingly her pace to a jog she was soon at the Alchemist's Guild and, giving a swift nod to Constables Bluejohn and Asterion she passed through and found her Commander and Captain simply by following the iron smell of freshly spilled blood, which was sharp over the background scent of sulphur and various acids and metals out in the corridors. Sgt. Detritus and his rookie (Griezsa) were looking around the kitchen and Carrot and Com. Vimes were standing over the body on the floor. The blood was strong in her nose now and she spoke in a soft growl "Sorry for the delay, Commander, Captain. Is there anywhere you want me to start tracking?"
The most valuable of all talents is that of never using two words when one
will do ~ Thomas Jefferson
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  Quote Quark Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 16 Aug 2010 at 4:28pm
Griezsa looked around at the busy watchmen glumly. A job in the Watch, of all things; she knew Ankh-Morpork was forgiving, but surely it was going too far to join the law. Her cousin Gryle had nearly killed off the Postmaster, after all, and if they were anything like Uberwaldians, they wouldn't forgive that in a hurry...
Blood. She could smell it in the air, not just from the person but mixed with a kind of metallic scent. A banshee's sense of smell wasn't anywhere near as good as a werewolf's, but they were still predators: They could use it if they must.
There was a small handle, poking out from the narrow gap under one of the workbenches, and out of pure curiosity, she pulled.
It wasn't a hammer, or a cleaver, or anything heavy as such. It was more one of those fiddly utensils with lots of clamps and blades and, in this situation, most importantly, a big blunt end.
All Griezsa knew was, the scent was suddenly unbearable.
"Eurgh!" she moaned, dropping the device and making everyone clamp their hands over their ears, except Detritus who seemed to have his head jammed in a cupboard. Vimes walked over and carefully picked it up.
"Hmm," he said. "Good find, Constable. Looks like an eyeball scoop."
"Has dat guy got all his eyeballs?" said Sergeant Detritus
The Constable in question whimpered as he handed it to Angua.
"See if you can find anything out from this, will you?" he asked. "I'm sorry, is there something wrong, Griezsa?"
The banshee shakily got up into a standing position, shaking her head under the hood. What little could be seen of her face looked deeply distraught.
"It's nothing... nothing. Really," she murmured, shrugging. Various folds of the cloak quite distant from the shoulders shifted. "I just... don't like..."
"Blood?" asked Carrot, wrinkling his honest brow with heavy thinking.
Griezsa nodded sadly. "It's just a thing. Don't talk about it."
"Never mind that," Vimes growled irritably. "What am I to tell the alchemists? One of them was clubbed to death with an eyeball scoop? Of all the ways you could commit horrible murder in a kitchen, why with an eyeball scoop?"

"Oh god, he's got an arm that shoots BEES. BEEEES!"
-- Minicrit
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  Quote Jano Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 15 Sep 2010 at 12:07am
"See if you can find anything out from this, will you?"
"Yes sir." Angua took the 'eyeball' scooper and looked at it dubiously. It certainly had to be the murder weapon, but the blood wasn't on the scoop part. She looked at Griezsa with much the same expression that she'd regarded the utensil. Banshees were very rare and females even more so. Mr. Ixolite was a nice enough old chap and she'd often enjoyed his company in Biers, unless it was The Undead Choristers practice night of course, but that wasn't entirely his fault. But the ferals were... trouble.
Vimes was still on the rant too "What am I to tell the alchemists? One of them was clubbed to death with an eyeball scoop? Of all the ways you could commit horrible murder in a kitchen, why with an eyeball scoop?"
 
Time to be a traitor to her (human) gender then. She sighed.
"It's not that bad Commander - nothing was scooped. Whoever used this dinged the deceased with the back of it where it meets the handle - it's quite sharp there. And this looks like it's actually a 'baller' - for fruit. Melons mostly or maybe that new fangled ice cream from Quirm... so it comes out nice and round - like a little ball?" She would have looked at Carrot at this point, but she didn't like to see him quite so pink... "Though perhaps it has another purpose here in the Guild?"
The most valuable of all talents is that of never using two words when one
will do ~ Thomas Jefferson
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  Quote Dagrun Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 06 Feb 2011 at 9:25am
Cheery #CC0099
Constble Ping #0066FF
 
Meanwhile, at the Psuedopolis Yard Desk, it was quiet. Cheery sat on the tall seat that had been recently installed for the Dwarves (so they could see over the desk top) and wondered if being the first for anything was a good idea.She had been the first Dwarf to openly admit she was a female and now there were many others in Ankh-Morpork and no one seemed to notice her any more. It was a bit of a shock after all the notice and bad language accrued since her 'coming out'. 'Old Stoneface' Vimes or, Mr Vimes, had said to ignore it as her thirteen and a half minutes of fame were up. She sighed and rubbed the still golden stripes of Sergeant on her arm. It was a repayment for all her hard work when she had begun as F'rensics which, had now been taken over by Igor who didn't let things blow up half as much as she had. Bless him!
To be honest she rather liked her job on the desk. She didn't have to do much shouting at people (which she hated) as Detritus did that to far better effect. No, now it was paper work and Dwarves always recorded what went on. It was a suitable job and one she hoped her parents back home approved of.
She shifted a clacks recently sent in. What? She read it again. A scoop? Constable Ping! Get this clacks to Sgt Angua! Scribbling quickly she urged the genial local boy off. Didn't everybody know that the best 'scoops' had started sown in the dwarf mines for scooping out rare gems and were now used in AM for nothing more than that new fangled ice cream from Quirm or wherever it was? She hoped the note would find Angua quick enough. Bogg and Scrappit in Mincing Lane would be open now!
Blod skal være min endelige prisen!
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