Doppelgänger [Acc/Walk-In To Audition]

[NIGHT TERRORS NOTHING]

WELCOME TO THE LIVE AUDITIONS FOR Doppelgänger
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍ A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE RP

TO AUDITION A ROLE
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍ It is still possible to send me the required writing sample so that you can be accepted or denied privately.
In the event you feel that your skills will be better displayed in action, this advertisement thread is the place for you.
Here's your chance for the big show!
Feel free to post OOC questions here also.
You must follow Gaia TOS and keep all things PG-13. No cybering. No graphic nudity. I expect experienced players with the common sense to respect fellow players. Keep character animosity, conflict, and drama in game where it belongs.
CHECK THREAD FOR AVAILABLE CHARACTER SLOTS
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍ Then post here as intended character, once, or twice if prompted to. 300 word minimum per post.
The character names that are starred with this * are either taken or pending.
Using a picture and a post layout for the walk-in is unnecessary but optional.
CURRENT TROUPE PLAYERS WILL BE WATCHING!
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍ Put on your best show!
Current troupe players, think of this as a prelude.
READY, SET, GO
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍ Before the apocalypse, the compound was the intended place of large scale entertainment and shows. The compound is an architectural masterpiece of glass, concrete, and steel. It was still under construction when the zombie epidemic broke out. The unfinished stadium became a safe haven...



TO THE THREAD.
TO CURRENT PROFILES.  

[Crocodylus]

▉ ▊ ▋ ▍LARRY BEAUREGARD ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍THE RINGMASTER ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"FORTUNE FAVORS THE BRAVE AND THUS HE WHO DARES, WINS." ▍▋ ▊ ▉

Much like everyone else in the compound, Larry Beauregard was experiencing a bit of cabin fever. Itchy leg syndrome caused him such grief that all he could do was glower at passing individuals and pace. It was worse than an underground bomb shelter. The compound could hold more bodies---smelly bodies---dirty, stinking bodies. There were showers but no one felt like using them because there was a limited supply of soap bars. Bollocks. It was Beauregard's way of thinking that everyone should live hard, die fast, die young. Rationing all the supplies was doing nothing more than prolonging the misery of their last days. If he had his way, they'd eat all the food now, party, starve and die over the week following instead of eating scraps, not partying, and wasting away slowly over a long period of weeks with dying taste buds. "Blasted compound officials. Canned beans aren't that good the next day. What is it that they're after...? Mass insanity and mass suicide...? This is the most sadistic way to go about it---rationing out one kind of food at a time."

He ate while pacing, holding his spoon like a tiny shovel for a grave, scraping beans out of the can that was supposed to last him another day. I hate beans in tomato sauce. I could've stomached this better yesterday, in one sitting. He obviously didn't care now about a growling tummy on the morrow. These beans were the enemy today and he was determined to destroy them. After finishing the entire can---it wasn't much of a feat---he dropped it on the ground and stomped it flat as a misshapen, new age designer dish. There were obvious teeth marks and molar reminiscent dents in the spoon he tucked away in a folded handkerchief. A glimmer of something devious flickered in his eye. "They've moved all the vending machines on this floor into the basement, but they couldn't move the perishables at the concessions stands. They've posted guards there to watch the refrigerators---and I know there's hot dogs." All this was said only loud enough for fellow performers to hear him. The cane twirled, gyrated, spun effortlessly around his hand and fingers until it was a hypnotic, cane-shaped blur. Up, down, around. He did a lackadaisical pivot on his leather heel, the turn of his cape revealing the length of his legs and a flash of his saber sheathe. It was a distraction. Only those standing or sitting close to him would know if he was speaking about anything at all---to know that he was warming up for something adventurous, dangerous, and potentially delicious. It'd been a long time since anyone got to eat something that wasn't canned. Beauregard honestly didn't know what the higher ups were planning to do by saving the goods. Possibly, feeding it to those who didn't die after the first few months of canned corn and canned beans. Unless someone corrupt was eating them in secret.

"I think I could take them. What say you? Any takers? Any bets?" The cane swept and pointed towards each and everybody with a question.

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CURRENT THEATRICS ON DISPLAY: The Ringmaster wants to steal a package of hot dogs.
OUT OF COKE: Hello ^w^ I am one of the troupe performers. Speak and interact with the Ringmaster!

 

[Raff_sapphire6]

▉ ▊ ▋ ▍ALOIS MARCEL ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍TWEEDLE DUM ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"THE KEY TO IMMORTALITY IS FIRST LIVING A LIFE WORTH REMEMBERING." ▍▋ ▊ ▉

Lunch time. What an unusually grim time for Alois. Alois wasn’t normally so down during lunch time. But for the past two weeks, they had been rationing the beans out. Alois was allergic to beans and he was forced to continue eating the corn. He hated corn, it stuck to his teeth, it tasted awful, and it was yellow. Alois knew in his head he was making little sense, but god damn he HATED corn! Alois was sitting in his troupe; everyone else looked as sad and downhearted as him. No one’s mouth hung a smile, their eyes never left the floor as they ate. Conversation had crawled to a stop. Alois was just about to get up from the ground and try and cheer everyone up. When Beauregard stomped his can on the ground, it caused some noise as the Ringmaster released his anger on the poor defenseless can. The can had never stood a chance. As the Ringmaster did his theatrics he spoke about the concession stands.

“Cotton candy!” Alois shouted as he jumped up with enthusiasm. Alois’s eyes sparkled as he thought about eating some delicious cotton candy. Alois’s mouth forming a smile, it halted half way and then...dropped, just as Alois’s shoulders sank. “We can’t Beauregard. It would be wrong, besides they are probably saving those rations for when things get really tough.” Alois sat back down with a groan. Alois hated that Beauregard had even mentioned the plot. Now Alois could only think of the delicious, soft, fluffy, tinged pink, sweet savory sugar. Alois’s mouth watered as he thought about the dessert. Alois looked up to glare at the man who had made him imagine the dessert he could no longer have. Alois picked up his can of corn that had been forgotten in his enthusiasm. Alois sighed as he looked at the pathetic yellow kernels, they were staring back at him, glaring and yellow.

Alois knew he was going to regret the words he spoke next; but if it meant not eating this gloop again, Alois didn't care. “I’m in.” Alois said setting his can down. He licked the spoon and tucked it away in his shirt pocket. Forks and spoons were the first to be rationed, Alois had been lucky enough to get a spoon. Soon they would be handing out soup cans. At least he could use a spoon to eat the soup. Alois stood up and started to stretch. He would need to be limber for whatever Beauregard planned; his plans were always…over the top.

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CURRENT THEATRICS ON DISPLAY: Alois wants cotton candy, and is willing to go along with Beauregard's plan.
OUT OF COOKIES: Hello all I am playing Tweedle Dum. Please come and join us, don't be shy. biggrin

 

[Crocodylus]

▉ ▊ ▋ ▍LARRY BEAUREGARD ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍THE RINGMASTER ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"FORTUNE FAVORS THE BRAVE AND THUS HE WHO DARES, WINS." ▍▋ ▊ ▉

He had a droll voice, but fantastically lively stare when addressing the sugar-deprived Tweedle Dum. "All the candy in the world right now, my sweater-wearing friend." Skip, twirl, stomp, and around the shoulder. Because of his deft movement underneath the cape, heavy wool moved and folded like silk. Larry Beauregard could put any cheer or band leader to shame. The cane rotated around his neck collar like a fan blade without the intent of murder and slid down into his other hand as he continued. "Well things are really tough today pour moi, pour vous, poor me, poor you, and that is in my record book. I'm not registered to vote. I didn't put those---those porcine armor-vested moustache -twirlers in charge. Their guns did." He walked---or rather, he strut---down and launched himself onto a banister with as little hit-miss as a butterfly would with a giant sunflower. Beauregard rolled his eyes with disdain as direct eye contact with one of the distant guards caused the man to yawn. They didn't know talent when they saw it. They didn't appreciate art. Art is life, plebeians! It was also a sore spot on his heart that everyone was depressed and not enjoying the show. In all this zombie bollocks, there should've at least been a handful of bodies starving for entertainment---for the circus. The circus was in 'town' all the time here in the compound. As a performer, he would've been more than happy to entertain an audience or two outside of his own troupe. Beauregard being Beauregard, didn't even faintly consider the fact that there were separated families, recent deaths, mourning, loss, terror, fear, and foreboding. Beauregard cared about different things---about clapping. The air was thick with sadness. Unconsciously, he broke it up with his cane twirling. It made good air circulation. The smell of cold canned food was embedded in his nostrils like untamed boogers.

He didn't say much else, as he thought. The thoughts racing in his head were akin to mad thoughts because they were racing like mad and they were mad---angry even. "I want to get under their skin, you know? Figure out what will tickle their fancy---or at least get on their nerves. We have to start with a distraction, but they aren't into classic entertainment. What-to-do. What---to---do." His wide, contemplating eyes went back and forth. If they were ball bearings, a body could hear them knocking on his skull. The cane never stopped moving. "Someone should go talk to them and find out something. I'm not beyond blackmail, but it's not likely to accomplish. Any information will do." He kicked up his knee to scratch it, the cane whipping around the cap, before returning to the top of his hand when he straightened up, business-like. The problem was, Beauregard was in the league of athletes---a hands-on man---a physical sort---always burning calories. A nostril flared---just one---giving the impression of a sharp-ratty expression. One can every three days meant he would dig through the walls with his teeth to the larders if he had to. Being a civilized sportsman, that wall-burrowing plan was towards the middle of his growing list of plans.

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CURRENT THEATRICS ON DISPLAY: The Ringmaster is a questionable planner.
OUT OF COKE: Hello ^w^ I am one of the troupe performers. Speak and interact with the Ringmaster!

 

[NIGHT TERRORS NOTHING]

▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"SPARKLE" MACDUFFY ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍BUNNY ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"SO, HOW CAN I TELL IF THE SAFETY IS OFF? OR ON? OR OFF? ON?" ▍▋ ▊ ▉

Sparkle dealt with her hunger by chewing. It was an unsanitary habit, but, effective for the most part. Chewing helped her think and if anything could help her think, then it has to be constant. It had to happen all the time. Otherwise, she would stare into space and become a catatonic. She could be snapped out of it, but not indefinitely. It was simpler to stay occupied by doing something. What she chewed also had to alternate, before the action itself became part of the zone. Sparkle chewed her lip, her nails (or what was left of them), and most of the time her hair. It was disgusting and she knew it, but could not do a thing to help it. There was no gum to chew. Not even a good piece of beef jerky. "How did you know there were beans in the cans?" As everyone knew, she was virtually illiterate. Half the time she could not distinguish letters from squiggles and patterns. Labels meant nothing to her. The paper encircling the can was more of a decoration or a wrapper to soak up dust, oils, and other filth. It was too mushy to be beans and it tasted funny. Isn't that the reason why everyone is sad? Her eyes looked at the other performers blearily, a dark swirling lock of hair listlessly dangling from her pale lips.

"I thought all this time we were eating expired gravy with chunks." That would have explained a portion of the illnesses in the compound if it was food poisoning. She was a dunce, but not that far gone. A paranoid mind would accept her explanation for the canned slop instantly. Once she had a bite or two (the only amount she could bring herself to consume each day), she would not eat anymore. Sparkle was careful. Going hungry seemed safer to do. Who looked at the labels carefully anyway? What were the ingredients? All of them? She thought about asking someone to read it to her, but part of the horror was finding out. Faint suspicions were better to have than the factual, terrifying truth. So even she considered the ringmaster's suggestions with some light and fervor. "I bet they have potato chips." POTATO CHIPS! The cane tricks were so dizzying that looking at them made her steps wobble as she followed.

"I can go talk to them, but I can't go alone..." She did not dare to go any place alone. She knew there were men out there ready to take advantage of her unintelligence and the absence of coordination in her limbs. In a pinch, Sparkle could defend herself, but then be subject to being tried for manslaughter. She was an oaf, but a misleadingly strong oaf as well as accident prone and always in need of some amount of supervision. The more, the better.

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CURRENT THEATRICS ON DISPLAY: questioning the beans.
OUT OF CARDBOARD: hello, i am the infamous gm (dictator) known as NTN. i am not that scary, honest.

 

[Raff_sapphire6]

▉ ▊ ▋ ▍ALOIS MARCEL ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍TWEEDLE DUM ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"THE KEY TO IMMORTALITY IS FIRST LIVING A LIFE WORTH REMEMBERING." ▍▋ ▊ ▉

Alois watched as Beauregard danced here and there, darting in and out like a fly. His hand never ceasing the constant twirling of his cane. The man was a show and any sane person who have hated him. His theatrics were annoying, flamboyant, and aggressive. But Alois was not any other person, he was an optimist. He found Beauregard's movement's entertaining; he played the gleeful child that thrilled at the antics. He was glad to see Beauregard jumping around; it meant Beauregard was feeling well. The moment he stopped his antics Alois would start worrying. Alois was bending down and touching his toes as Beauregard discussed what they should do next. It wasn't much of a plan, gathering information.

Alois's flannel striped shirt was billowing against his side as he moved and stirred the air. Alois straightened, looked at Beauregard and then at the nearest guard. "Getting under their skin will not be helpful. They have the food and supplies and the guns. Making them hostile will only make things worse for us." Alois calmly reminded his eager friend. Alois had now moved onto his arms. He hooked one arm under the other, as he stretched one arm all the way out. Bunny had spoken up; she had asked how they knew it was beans. "The label says its beans and if you examine the slop more closely you can see small shapes that resemble kidneys." Bunny wasn't looking that well. She was paranoid about the food and wasn't eating much of it. Alois had tried to explain the food was fine, she hadn't listened. Alois was feeling his bones pop and crack as he spoke. It had been awhile since he had done any physical exercise. More often than not he was keeping everyone's spirits up. Trying to make them forget their worries.

Alois finished his arms and looked from Beauregard to the nearest guard and then back at Beauregard. "If you were nicer you could go and ask them yourself." Alois said, a smile forming on his lips. "I'll go with you Bunny. Don't worry I won't let anything happen to you Bunny." He smiled at Bunny as he walked over to her. He picked up his yellow corn can on the way over. She was chewing her hair as of right now. Alois was unsure why she did it; but he would never ask her. He had a feeling she didn't want to talk about it. Alois stretched his arm out and offered Bunny his corn can, "You want to try the corn? It's not so bad." Alois didn't mind sharing his food, even now. Bunny was like a sister to him, a sweet older sister who wasn't very smart. Alois’s eyes showed kindness and he smiled as he looked down at her. She could use some cheer, she was acting more and more paranoid lately.

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CURRENT THEATRICS ON DISPLAY: Alois is trying to cheer up Bunny.
OUT OF COOKIES: Hello all I am playing Tweedle Dum. Come and interact with my character, I promise he won't bite. He's actually kind of nice.

 

[NIGHT TERRORS NOTHING]

▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"SPARKLE" MACDUFFY ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍BUNNY ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"SO, HOW CAN I TELL IF THE SAFETY IS OFF? OR ON? OR OFF? ON?" ▍▋ ▊ ▉

After letting the unappetizing hair lock fall, Sparkle accepted the proffered can of corn and emptied it into her mouth with one to three sloppy gulps. It was starchy and sugary. It was, to her, some kind of soup or something with the semblance of soup. Not knowing what to do with the leftover can, she turned it over on its side and twisted the sharply edged open end into the drywall nearby. Embedding it there, she watched as the two performers display some antics. Her work as an assistant was suppose to involve 'antics', but without a rehearsal she had no understanding of how to improvise. "I'll believe you, for now." She could not tell the difference between the corn or the beans except in the color. Brown and yellow. She was not used to eating these things. Food with ingredients should have more color diversity and vibrancy. Or at least, that is what sounded plausible to her. It would not have surprised her to be wrong, but she was the kind of person who followed her instincts. She went with her first impression because she was impressionable. I'll try new things once.

"If we take the guns then I bet they can't shoot us." The bunny was a simple creature who assessed every situation with the basest of logic. She was not like the crazy Lion or the equally crazy Ringmaster. "I think if we take the guns really fast then maybe they won't notice. They have lots of guns though. We've got to get in there really close with plenty of hands. But we'll talk first. We can't let them know our secret plan." It sounded crude as well as blunt, but Sparkle did not think of things like that. She was a bad comedian and could never say anything witty on purpose.

Before she could walk any further towards the guarded concessions stand though, she turned around and looked at her fellow performers, "Oh, what do we talk to them about that'll make them look at our faces and not our hands or my breasts?" It was a valid concern.

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CURRENT THEATRICS ON DISPLAY: the performers are still in the planning stages. bunny wants to steal the guns.
OUT OF CARDBOARD: hello, i am the infamous gm (dictator) known as NTN. i am not that scary, honest.

 

[Crocodylus]

▉ ▊ ▋ ▍LARRY BEAUREGARD ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍THE RINGMASTER ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"FORTUNE FAVORS THE BRAVE AND THUS HE WHO DARES, WINS." ▍▋ ▊ ▉

Larry Beauregard continued walking towards the concessions stand. He wasn't too eager to wait for a concrete plan to solidify itself. No! He was hungry---now! Those hot dogs were as good as his! "You have to think before you speak...? What nonsense is that...?" He was serious. Without waiting for a response from the either of them, the Ringmaster sidled up a few feet short from the concession stand, immediately falling into a march formation. Hup, two, three four! Hup, two, three, four! The spontaneous march passed the front of the concessions stand twice, before he suddenly noticed that there were somehow less guards stationed there now than there were earlier. An additional two should've been behind the counter and they weren't there. Left, right, left. His shifty-eye skills were also unmatched against any other shifty people. The one guard in front didn't look very concerned, but he should be. Hrrmph! Beauregard could only see one. He whispered over his shoulder to the nearest performer on his third march past the prize location. "Weren't there more of these pigs a minute ago? No matter, let's swarm and flank the one. I'll lead the charge on four. We'll gang up on him shoulder to shoulder. No one'll see anything if we stick together." And with each turn, the marching line he was making inched closer and closer to the objective, a guard whose eyes were staring off into the distance somewhere, obviously dreaming of better things to do than guarding all by himself---if he knew he was alone at all. "One---" The guard had a slight thousand-yard stare, should've been in retirement, should've been paying close attention to the top hat that was growing in size every single time it passed by! "---four."

WHUMPH!

Beauregard was a fast walker and even quicker in his marching. His cape flew up from the speed of his lunge and covered up whatever he had done exactly. He either punched the man square in the jaw or rapped the cane over the guard's head. Maybe even both. Being fitter than able to carry his own weight plus another's, he flipped the unconscious guard around with a flourish of his cape, while talking loudly. "Why ye-es, I can teach you how to twirl a baton! If you were so-o interested, you should have flagged me down a lot sooner! Haha. Haha. Ha." The crook of his arm took the limp guard by the shoulders. Beauregard led himself and the body into the back where the glorious stores of junk food were being kept. Out of sight, he flung the body down into a corner where there was a softly-used mop and bucket to land in. Then without looking anywhere else he started shuffling through boxes.

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CURRENT THEATRICS ON DISPLAY: The Ringmaster is also very impatient. He has stormed a barely guarded concessions stand!
OUT OF COKE: Hello ^w^ I am one of the troupe performers. Speak and interact with the Ringmaster!

 

[Leifka]

▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"Pierrot" ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍Pierrot ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"ONE CAN ACQUIRE EVERYTHING IN SOLITUDE EXCEPT CHARACTER." ▍▋ ▊ ▉

Always alone. Why did they always make him sit alone? With nothing but himself to accompany him. It was like that when he had been with the troupe as well. Except he secluded himself. He felt better that way. No staring. No thoughts. Just himself. People were complaining. They thought he wasn't listening. Wasn't paying attention. Not even in their plain of existence. That was okay. It wasn't okay. It was. They left him alone. And they hadn't noticed he left either. All the complaining they did urged him to do something. Not for the ones complaining but for the ones who weren't. The women, the children, the silent. He had wanted to help them with their hunger. He hadn't wanted to quench his own.

He liked the gnawing pain of slow starvation.

"Pierrot"--he didn't go by any other name--decided he would confront the guards. In his own way. Because he didn't like speaking. Words were wasted on ignorant ears. Conflict wasn't any better. But it solved most problems; problems that words couldn't convey or find the solution to. Odd. Is that what normal people think? He thought they did. Probably, he had answered himself. He had been too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice a guard was walking a corner in front of him. Though, he heard when the guard turned around.

For the first time in a long, long while. Pierrot took off the mask that adorned his face. The only other person to have seen Pierrot's face, aside from himself and his lovely Columbine, was an unfortunate guard. Now, not a thing could be seen from those eyes...

...because PORCELAIN SHARDS protruded from them.

The guard had no time to scream as a foot connected with the side of his head. Pierrot didn't even check for a pulse when he had hefted the guard by his shoulders and dragged him to a dark corner. The building was large. Not every spot could be seen. Not every body could be found. It gave Pierrot the allotted time to make it to the concessions stand without getting spotted. At least he hadn't been spotted then. Guards had been on him right as he opened the refrigerator. They set him in a corner. Placed him in a mask with a zipper over the mouth and holes for his nostrils and cut-outs for his steely, unsettled eyes.

Without his mask HE WAS PRONE TO USE HIS TEETH.

He sobbed. He cried. He shook. He sobbed some more. They didn't care. No one did. He had only stopped because he noticed two were wearing gas masks. The ones nearest him had such great, clean masks. He had just recently lost his, broken on SOMEONE ELSE'S FACE. Their masks were so very nice. One Black. One White. His colors. HIS.

He had managed to untie himself. Silently took down one with a swift uppercut to the jaw. It had been an instant knockout. He never made a sound. No utterance of any kind. It was the way he liked it. The other was harder. A jab to the larynx had rendered the other guard speechless. His legs had been next, swept from under him. Then an elbow had been dropped on his chest. Pain made him lose his conscious. Another mask was taken off. Exchanged for a fancy, white gas mask that fully covered Pierrot's face and hid his eyes. He gathered a backpack from the guard dumped the contents on the still body, then placed food--canned peaches, fruit, candy--in it and turned.

A small "Oh" left his lips as he popped up from behind the counter. Larry took two other guards out. He proffered the pack in his hand, but kept the beer he had found to himself.

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CURRENT THEATRICS ON DISPLAY: Pierrot was naughty, got in trouble, redeemed himself, then offered his goods to the Ringmaster.
OUT OF CANISTERS: Another one of the troupe. Come join us. The only things that bite are the zombies.

 

[NIGHT TERRORS NOTHING]

▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"SPARKLE" MACDUFFY ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍BUNNY ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"SO, HOW CAN I TELL IF THE SAFETY IS OFF? OR ON? OR OFF? ON?" ▍▋ ▊ ▉

Sparkle's dark curly head swung around slowly as Beauregard strode past her saying something about something that she could not quite catch fully. Automatically though, she followed behind him and started to march when she saw him march. She supposed that was what people were supposed to do if they lacked a drum or pom-poms to wave around. In a marching line, people picked up their legs and did something with their elbows which she forgot how to do. So, her arms lay flat by her sides as she picked up her knees and stomped after the fleet Ringmaster. Her posture made things stranger than they should have been, but there was no complaint. No one really expected anything from her because she was an infamous dunce. When she was ordered to crowd the guard, she forgot to cover her breasts. In fact, it escaped her that she was supposed to help push him or trip him. The Ringmaster's cape did most of the work. And she ran into it, bouncing off the flat body of the falling guard by her breasts and to some extent her nose as well. "Ow!" She did not forget to pick up the guard's pistol. Motor function was more of her problem than anything else. Distracted by the flashy cape, she almost tripped over a small trash can, a hanging spatula in the kitchen slapped her attractive but ungainly forehead, and whirling around, Sparkle tripped over the body Beauregard carelessly dropped and she flew past his turned backside. A normal person would cry from a stumbling of that magnitude. Sparkle was a little off in that department. The circus was indeed where she belonged. Her ability to get back up and recover her shapely composure was perceived by some to be her only skill. This kitchen floor is sticky. Ew. When was the last time someone mopped this place? She got up on one knee, then the other. She found herself looking at someone she did not recognize, at all, sharing provisions with Beauregard.

"Who is this?" With one hand, she languidly waved the gun's nose tip at the masked man (not aggressively or with any intent to shoot), lip starting to swell from falling on her face. Learning how to land or learning from her mistakes was not one of her strong points. "If he works here, let's order me some fries. They don't even have to be cooked. I'll eat them raw." To her, frozen meant 'raw'.

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CURRENT THEATRICS ON DISPLAY: does not recognize pierrot in his new mask even though he has obviously not changed in size, shape, or form.
OUT OF CARDBOARD: hello, i am the infamous gm (dictator) known as NTN. i am not that scary, honest.

 

[Raff_sapphire6]

▉ ▊ ▋ ▍ALOIS MARCEL ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍TWEEDLE DUM ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"THE KEY TO IMMORTALITY IS FIRST LIVING A LIFE WORTH REMEMBERING." ▍▋ ▊ ▉

If Beauregard were a normal person, Alois might have been worried. But Beauregard was Beauregard. He didn't even wait for Alois to come up with a solid plan. Instead he started marching over to the guard getting closer and closer until his cape covered him, as he took the guard out. Alois had already seen there was only one guard left, wait hadn't there been three? Someone had taken out the other two. Alois gulped, if these people weren't his family they would be more trouble than they were worth! Alois hardly noticed as Bunny toppled over the guard, the ground, and anything else that was nearby for her to stumble over and landed on the ground. He was walking briskly to where Beauregard had disappeared behind the concession stand. Alois rounded the corner and gasped. His palm touched his forehead as he walked around the corner out of eyesight and returned moment's later to Beauregard, Pierrot, and Bunny.

"Pierrot, it is Pierrot Bunny. Are okay, are you hurt anywhere?" Said Alois as he went over to Bunny and calmly put his hand on her gun, in case she accidentally pulled the trigger Alois could push it down and away from Pierrot’s face, as he explained who Pierrot was. He then went over to the guard Beauregard had kindly deposited on a bucket. He did not want to disrespect the dead at the very least. Alois grabbed the man by his shoulders and placed him gently next to the bucket. "I thought you had just gone to the bathroom. I should have known better." Said Alois as he checked the other two guard's pulses and addressed Pierrot. They were dead, unfortunately. Alois hadn't wanted cotton candy this badly. Alois knew better than to argue though, Pierrot had just been trying to help, the only way he knew how. Alois stood up after having examined the...corpses. "Nice mask, Pierrot. It suits you.” Said Alois as he went over to examine some of the boxes in the concession stand. He rifled through them looking for things the other troop members would like. He found a few things he deposited into his jean’s pockets. Alois felt a little uneasy being next to the three corpses. Alois felt like a thief and he knew he shouldn't; but he couldn't help it. These people weren't zombies, they had been human.

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CURRENT THEATRICS ON DISPLAY: Defuse the situation so they can leave.
OUT OF COOKIES: Hello all I am playing Tweedle Dum. Come and interact with my character, I promise he won't bite. He's actually kind of nice.

 

[Crocodylus]

▉ ▊ ▋ ▍LARRY BEAUREGARD ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍THE RINGMASTER ▍▋ ▊ ▉
▉ ▊ ▋ ▍"FORTUNE FAVORS THE BRAVE AND THUS HE WHO DARES, WINS." ▍▋ ▊ ▉

Larry Beauregard clapped his gloved hands with joy The sound was muffled---like a teddy bear getting gut punched kind of sound. The pack was opened up and Beauregard sought out what he prized most at the moment, cold hot dogs and a shaker of dried, minced onion flakes. He turned away from the others, hiding his face while he voraciously stuffed the contents of the wrapper and shaker into his mouth. The wide silhouette of his top hat brim covered most of the undignified carnage from view. Between snorting, chewing, and scarfing he warned the others about the corpses. "Some-one wa-atch the bun-ny! Guards have aerosol spray cans equipped to both their sweated armpits. Either pepper spray or tear gas. Don't want to find out which one." The magician was usually the one to watch his assistant, but like the rest of the troupe didn't follow this harebrained plan to storm the concessions stand. Beauregard couldn't blame the other performers for not following him. He walked too fast and everyone who stood by him was shadowed by his greatness. Beauregard found a napkin dispenser in the backpack too. He grabbed a wad and cleaned his face. There were meat chunks on his forehead, but not for long. He couldn't bear to be seen this way. It was degrading how hungry he was. Trying to follow the rationing was insane to begin with. I should have thought of this sooner---the first day. Dab, dab, dab. The crumpled up wad of napkins was chucked overhead and neatly landed atop a fluorescent light panel because he was a magical sort of person, scratch the magic and add more whimsy.

The backpack was handed back to Pierrot, as the Ringmaster was in the middle of grabbing a few more things to stuff inside of it. Candy bars, thin rectangular boxes of edible bits, and some eating utensils. "Mm, these look useful for later. I... overheard Mr. Smarty-Pants talking to the Fortune Teller. It sounded to me like something bad was going to happen soon and that we should all be worried for it. Did you any of you catch the details?" He ducked his chin behind his cape collar and licked a tooth---sucked what felt like a chunk that used to be an ear or a non-kosher snout from between his teeth. "Anyway---I have a better idea. Instead of worrying, we're going to prepare. Eat your fill. Then take the ammo off these bodies. Leave the gas canisters. Those don't work on the dead. Assuming the same for the undead." Beauregard was already armed. He couldn't say the same for every performer. Weapon scavenging was now a must. Eating until they were bloated like clown pants was another must---he ripped open a candy box and poured malted chocolates into his cheeks to supplement the meat and condiments in his belly---in preparation for possible famine.

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CURRENT THEATRICS ON DISPLAY: Looting! Yaaahooo!
OUT OF COKE: Hello ^w^ I am one of the troupe performers. Speak and interact with the Ringmaster!

 

[Crocodylus]

▉ ▊ ▋ ▍BUMP