So, what are we going to do tonight, Brain? [semi-open]
Characters: Any and all members of Denouement!
Content: Our favorite terrorist group meets to discuss how to better wreak havoc!
Setting: The backroom of a building that is remarkably not shady on the outside
Time: Late evening
Warnings: Plotting! Terrorists! Possibly pastaaaa!
Note: Like the diplomatic meeting thread, post a new thread every time you want to start a new topic of conversation (such as the countries and the ships) and put the topic in the subject line.
Despite the respectable nature of the establishment's exterior, the backroom the meeting was being held in had a somewhat ominous air to it. The room was dark, with the only light being provided by a weak, flickering gas lamp set on top of a large , round table, around which the various guests had gathered. Nothing broke the silence, save for the scuffling of feet and the scraping of chairs, and from the back of the room something red flashed against the bleak, artificial twilight. Soon enough three men stepped forward, each in identical red and black suits and wearing identical masks. They covered the entire face, and matched the color of their attire: black cloth with bright crimson roses emblazoned on the front, with petals that glistened eerily against what scant light their was. One of the men nodded to the others, and when they nodded back he stepped forard, his arms crossed behind his back.
"So," he started, his low voice unimpeded by the cloth over his mouth, "What shall we do about the problem called 'Reial'?"
Content: Our favorite terrorist group meets to discuss how to better wreak havoc!
Setting: The backroom of a building that is remarkably not shady on the outside
Time: Late evening
Warnings: Plotting! Terrorists! Possibly pastaaaa!
Note: Like the diplomatic meeting thread, post a new thread every time you want to start a new topic of conversation (such as the countries and the ships) and put the topic in the subject line.
Despite the respectable nature of the establishment's exterior, the backroom the meeting was being held in had a somewhat ominous air to it. The room was dark, with the only light being provided by a weak, flickering gas lamp set on top of a large , round table, around which the various guests had gathered. Nothing broke the silence, save for the scuffling of feet and the scraping of chairs, and from the back of the room something red flashed against the bleak, artificial twilight. Soon enough three men stepped forward, each in identical red and black suits and wearing identical masks. They covered the entire face, and matched the color of their attire: black cloth with bright crimson roses emblazoned on the front, with petals that glistened eerily against what scant light their was. One of the men nodded to the others, and when they nodded back he stepped forard, his arms crossed behind his back.
"So," he started, his low voice unimpeded by the cloth over his mouth, "What shall we do about the problem called 'Reial'?"