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The Life Noir

Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

a part of “The Life Noir”, a fictional universe by Jadeling Hawkins.

Takes place in the 1920's, New York, New York. Told in the classic Film Noir style, the goal is to explore the reality of good intentions versus evil actions, the complexities of relationships when law, social status and past decisions are inserted into t

Characters Settings Story
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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Tue Jun 02, 2009 1:35 am

"Squawk wha-?" Charlie attempted to ask, before he was thrown practically head over heels into the chicken coop. Charlie had faced against mobsters armed to the teeth and absolute horrors from the underworld, but as he found himself standing in a coop full of agitated chickens, covered head to toe in clumpy snow, he got a taste of true terror. "Ah--ah--Sam! Maybe this ain't such a-"

Before he could finish, there was a massive squawking fiasco, and feathers filled his whole field of vision. Charlie heard someone shriek, but he was fairly certain it wasn't him. And since there were not yet any other witnesses in the coop to hear the sound, and it would be muffled outside by the howling winds, that was the story he would stick to.

Still, the beaks, the claws! The terror! Sam was infinitely more tough than he looked, if he braved this maelstrom on a regular basis.

But, miraculously, Charlie managed to grab onto what felt like a pair of stiff, scaly worms. Chicken legs, if he wasn't mistaken. The nasty little claws attached to the stiff, scaly worms suggested that he was correct. With a despairing yelp, Charlie threw one arm across his eyes to keep them from being scratched at, and staggered back towards the door. "I got one! I got on! Lemme out!"
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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby NorthernSoul on Tue Jun 02, 2009 4:53 pm

"A house, Levard? But that would mean having to spend even more time with you..." joked Ben, through teeth gritted against the cold as Jo hung onto his arm and the two of them picked their way through the snow towards the farmhouse.

Why? Ben thought. Why had he agreed to take Edison up on the offer of a paid holiday? He should have known the editor had something up his sleeve; he wouldn't have put it past him to have deliberately chosen the worse day of the year for the weather and sent the two journos packing on that very day. Ben longed for the crisp frosts and cleared concrete sidewalks of a typical New York winter.

To his relief and with a sense of mild foreboding (Ben was, after all, a writer and spontaneously-opening doors did not bode well in any story), the front door swung open of its own accord, accompanied by a gust of wind. Ben cautiously ventured inside with Jo.

"Er- Hello! Anyone home?" he called, down the dim hallway. The door swept shut with a bang behind them and the place was suddenly very quiet, separate from the gale and the snow. Ben ruffled a few flakes of snow from his hair and raised an eyebrow at Jo.

"Just our luck to stumble into a mysteriously empty house, Levard. If it's haunted, I'm blaming you," he said, carefully pushing open the nearest door.

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kohananinja on Tue Jun 02, 2009 5:23 pm

Gordie had heard screams of terror on nearly every continent in the world, but nothing compared to the sound that came from that chicken coop. He grimaced slightly as he heard the unlucky palooka fighting off the chickens inside while simultaneously trying to grab one. Not an easy task by any means. To his great relief, the bloke inside showed signs of life, and assured he’d gotten one of the chickens. As he was next in line, Gordie quickly swung open the door, and pulled the man out by the collar to safety outside the coop before quickly closeing it as if to bar against some kind of monster. He first victum had a few feathers here and there, but he didn’t seem too worse for the wear.

“Good work.” Gordie said quickly giving a reassuring pat on his shoulder, referring to the chicken. It had simply been bad luck the poor bloke had gotten shoved in first. He hoped it wasn’t an often occurrence for him.

“I’ll go in next.” Gordie volunteered.

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Walter Barrecks on Tue Jun 02, 2009 8:57 pm

Remy felt eyes burning into his soul. He attempted to act nonchalant. "Bonj-*ack*" Feeling his collar being jerked, he nearly dropped Kitty, who landed on her feet with ease. She was rather amused by the sight of poor Remy getting dragged around by the neck as if he were a dog on a leash. His expression was in fear, and his legs were sliding on his heels while Fiona tugged him down the hall. Kitty wrapped her coat around herself tighter and followed the group, still laughing at the Cajun dick.

Still being dragged, and attempting to not fall down the stairs as he ascended backwards, Remy tried to convince Fiona to let him go. "S'il tu plait, ma cher-*ack* Dat hurts, come on, I can't breathe.*Ack*" Finally upstairs, Remy pulled his collar free, rubbing his throat with his hand. "T'anks." Dorothy mentioned that there was a ladder to the attic, and for some reason, he had to climb first. "Yeah, I get it, I'm climbin'." He put his hands on the rungs and started up until he was up and looking down. There was cobwebs covering his face when he peaked down. "Got a ligh'?"

Kitty had a cat-like expression, and nudged Fiona. "What was that all about anyway? You have eyes for a certain spice covered drunk? Lookin' to taste a little Cajun Charm? Oh, an' I'm not referrin'' to his family's brand of giggle water."She crossed her arms, waiting for an answer while examining the Irish blond.
"She called me late last night, to say she loved me so.
But I guess you changed her mind.
Well I should have known it wouldn't be all right,
But I can't live without her
So I won't even try...
And if I get drunk, then I'll pass out on the floor now baby.
Cause you won't bother me no more.
And if you're drinking, well you know that you're my friend and I say
I guess I'll have myself a beer."
Reel Big Fish- Beer

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Wed Jun 03, 2009 12:39 am

Fiona pursed her lips, meeting Kitty's gaze squarely. Kitty was in the rare position of being able to recognize when Fiona was truly interested in a man, rather than when she was just offering the courtesy flirtation that came hand in hand with her trade (a man was always more willing to give you a discount on liquor when you thought he was charming than when he thought you were going to staple his left foot to the ground). It was both convenient because Fiona was able to freely take advice from Kitty in regards to menfolk (on the rare chance that she actually needed it), and because Kitty's was a wonderful place to rent a room for a date, but it was also frustrating because...well, Fiona didn't much like people being able to discern anything about her. Particularly when that someone was a nubile young baby vamp that could catch about any man in her claws that she wanted to.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't." Fiona replied at length, as she reached for her inside pocket, where she withdrew her favorite lighter and tossed it up the ladder to Remy. "Maybe I've got eyes for the Detective and a taste for Cajun Charm. Maybe I've got arms and legs for him, too. But I'm real good at keeping my hands and various other appendages to myself when the traffic gets too busy, if you catch my drift." And with an imperious look (and absolutely not caring that her rather vulgar, but somehow subtle, statement may not have been the sort of casual banter that the other dames present were accustomed to) Fiona grabbed onto the ladder and ascended after the Cajun. Luckily, Remy had done a good job of clearing away the cobwebs with his large bulk, so Fiona arrived in the eerie dark attic relatively clean.



"Oh, sure, blame the lady. Fine, I'll take the bag. But you get to get eaten by the ghosts first," Jo replied as she rubbed her hands vigorously together. She couldn't tell if the house was empty or if everyone had just retreated into a single tiny room to squeeze together for warmth. At least the house itself was a tremendous improvement on weather outside. Still, on the off chance that the unusually quiet house WAS haunted, Jo clung discretely close to Ben's proverbial coattails.

"Say, wait a second," Jo piped up, looking around herself. She rubbed one gloved hand against her nose, her brows raised in surprise. "I think my conk might be frozen...but do you smell something? Get a wiggle on, Goldie, let's take a look!" She caught his arm and directed him in the direction of what she believed she was smelling; a fresh, hot meal. She carefully poked her head around every corner to make sure that they weren't going to be surprising anyone with a pea shooter.



"Paddy, is now really the time-?" Brigit was asking, referencing the particular position of one of Patrick's hands after the crash. She, too, was struggling to free herself from the tangle, but she was both sleepy and a great deal small than Patrick, so she eventually gave up and let him scramble alone. But before she could go into detail about what it may or may not have been the perfect time for, there came an unexpected knock on the window.

"What sorta off-their-head piker would be runnin' around knockin' on windows in this weather?" Brigit demanded, glancing to both windows to see a pair of pale faces. Her heart leaped up in her throat as she realized what they must be...ghosts! There to take the victims of a crash to the judgment seat!

((OOC: Just so you know, I think it would be best if Maddie and Hugh took the crash crew back to THEIR house, rather than cramming even more people into the Knutsons' place. It hadn't occurred to me that we could use both places before XD))

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby daughterofdon on Wed Jun 03, 2009 2:13 am

“Ow!”

Lance yanked off his knit hat and rubbed his head, making his dark hair even more disheveled. He gawked in surprise at his girlfriend. Had he really deserved to be clunked over the head? He thought back to her rapid-fire questions and the way her emotions had changed quicker than the traffic signals. Yes, he thought, he had deserved a little clunk
 he had avoided her for a week, it was true. She didn’t even know what had happened to him. How he had lost his badge


He tried to explain. “Now, baby
 honey-bunny
 loverdoll,” he tried to charm her with multiple gooey pet names. He held out his arms to see if she would accept them around her waist. “Alanna. I was too ashamed to call. You see, something happened at work--”

But before he could spit it out, Mrs. Knutson came in and recruited them to help her in the kitchen. He retracted his arms from Alanna and turned to smile sweetly at the farm matron. But before he could comply to peel some potatoes, he heard a screeching crash from outside.

“Holy smokes! That’s a car wreck, for sure! Mrs. Knutson, if you would excuse me, I am
 er
 I have experience with being a traffic cop. A crash in this weather—I’m sure it’s quite serious. Don’t bother calling the police—I’ll take care of it.” He looked then at Alanna and murmured, “We’ll talk later, baby. You stay inside where it’s warm, eh.”

He turned around and went to the door, putting his tuque back on. In a spur of the moment decision, he grabbed Morgana’s humongous fur coat when she wasn’t looking. It was a lady’s coat, and it smelled strongly of her perfume, but he donned it anyway. He was from Canada; I knew that the coldest weather was best braved with a fur coat. Morgana’s mink was warm and oversized enough to fit him.

Opening and shutting the door as quick as possible, Lance dashed back out into the snow. He stomped through the deep drifts, until he came closer to where all the cars were parked. Jeez, it was a lot of vehicles--some in better shape than others. Through the wind and snow, he saw two big shapes, the worst of the worst—crashed. And of all odds, the black Cadillac had rammed into his blue Buick.

Not that his $650 jalopy was a necessarily nice car, but it was still his car. “Well—this is just
 just great!” he fumed, kicking some snow. Then for the moment he set aside his frustration to rush over to the Cadillac and see if the driver and passengers were intact. He saw that Hugh and Maddie had already got there before him, and he approached, all the while looking back at his wrecked car and wincing at the sight.

((OOC: Hope it's okay that it's Lance's car! I just saw an opportunity, and I wanted it!))

---

Morgana, meanwhile, was complacent about assisting a mother of a similar age (probably). She followed to the kitchen... On the way, she had yet to say anything to Clyde, and still held her tongue. Instead, she waited for Alanna to pass, and then touched the girl’s shoulder in greeting. “Why, I don’t believe I have met you—but I have sensed your arrival in the City, my dear. Is it
 Alison? Lana? No, it is Alayna, yes? Alayna Greensburg.” Morgana smiled a strange sort of smile and dug her manicured nails a little into the young blonde's shoulder.

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby NorthernSoul on Wed Jun 03, 2009 11:01 am

Ben, who was feeling hungry himself, followed Jo's nose and pushed open the door from which the glorious smells of home cooking were coming from. It swung back into a warm, light-filled room, so different from the rest of the house and he was confronted with three women.

Two were older; one was pale and gaunt with broad, high cheekbones and far too much make-up and the other was softer looking, dark-haired with delicate features that he oddly vaguely recognised though he was sure he'd never seen her before. The third woman was younger and, Ben having an memory for faces and names, he was certain he had seen her before.

"Oh- Sorry, the road past the gate was blocked so we pulled up to your house. Is there a chance we could-" he began, apologetically, addressing all three women and standing back for Jo to enter the kitchen. "Hang on, you're... Alanna? Right?" he said, suddenly remembering where he'd seen the younger blonde before.

"You work at the Knutson stall back in the city?" he asked, marvelling at the coincidence. "Ben Goldberg; we met briefly a few weeks ago. Is this your house?"

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Wed Jun 03, 2009 2:27 pm

Alanna felt her eye twitch a bit as Morgana's nails dug into her shirt. It was like carrying a falcon on your shoulder, only that falcon for some mysterious reason knew your name..."I...how did you..? My name is Alanna Greensbury.."

Before Alanna could decide whether to yelp and flee from the eerie woman that had arrived with Lance or inquire as to how she knew her...

NorthernSoul wrote:"Oh- Sorry, the road past the gate was blocked so we pulled up to your house. Is there a chance we could-" he began, apologetically, addressing all three women and standing back for Jo to enter the kitchen. "Hang on, you're... Alanna? Right?" he said, suddenly remembering where he'd seen the younger blonde before.

"You work at the Knutson stall back in the city?" he asked, marvelling at the coincidence. "Ben Goldberg; we met briefly a few weeks ago. Is this your house?"


Alanna blinked her large brown eyes in surprise, her mouth opening and no words escaping it. Then she clapped a hand to her head, catching her voice. "Jeepers creepers! Ben Goldberg, right! I--what are you doin' out here, eh? It seems like half of New York decided to go for a stroll right before this storm hit! Oh, no, no, this isn't my house. It's the Knutsons' house, and this here is Alice, their mama."

Alanna gestured to the Knutson Matriarch, then caught sight of the shivering redhead standing slightly behind Ben. "Oh! Jo! It's Jo, right? You're Hugh's girlfriend?"

Jo chuckled, waving one hand demurely as though to excuse the idea. Jo was rarely anyone's 'girlfriend,' though she surely did enjoy making the big, muscular, tasty lump of farmboy that was known as Hugh blush. "Oh, well, you know...He's a swell fella...But fancy seeing you here! Of all the houses in all the word, huh?"

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Irish Wolf on Thu Jun 04, 2009 10:46 am

"Anytime is really the time" chuckled Patrick, hoping a little joke would soften the blow when he finally got a look at his car. That was most likely going to ruin his night (even more then the fact he had to spend a good portion of it driving back home) and having someone cover his driver's ears would be for the best thin when he took stock of his newly purchased car. Ignoring the muffled voice and tapping on his window, the gun runner groped on the seat for his thick, beaver fur, double breasted coat.

"I'll go see what they want" grumbled the merchant of death, slipping his coat about his shoulders. There was another groan from Finn, if because his nose had been broken when his face smashed into the wheel or if because he had been stunned into semi-awareness. Stepping around Brigit he grabbed the door handle and pushed it open.

"The answer is no" grumbled Pat, trying to keep the door from smashing into the lad that was standing much to close to his car.
Image
Its easy to be brave behind a castle wall
Twelve highlanders and a bagpipe make a rebellion
A king's son is no nobler then the food he eats

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby whiteangel on Thu Jun 04, 2009 11:55 am

Dorothy wrinkled her nose at the sight of Remy with a cobwebbed face, and tried to look elsewhere and unassuming as Fiona and Kitty had a brief exchange.

"Err...I'll find you a better light." She disappeared into a nearby room, brought out a lit candle on a stand and a rag. She took a few wrungs of the ladder and extended the candle up to Fiona who was in much cleaner condition than Remy. "Alright, we can stay down here to catch whatever you find up there. Remy and Fiona- " Dorothy paused, entirely uncomfortable in dealing out orders to Fiona Muirenn. "Would you mind searching around up there?"



Sam laughed heartily as Charlie emerged with a hen, shoving the willing Gordie in after him, "Good luck in there sport. See if you can't grab two, eh? Lots of mouths to feed."

The door swiftly opened and closed, and the man disappeared inside with a new resound of squawks and shrieks. Sam looked to Charlie, "You did it, son. Now I think I can let you marry my daughter, eh? So did you want the honor of beheading or were you wanting me to take care of that messy bit?"



Alice looked up as two new figures entered her kitchen. More people, as long as they were good people, were never a bad thing in her opinion. More hands to help, more stories to tell, more laughter to share. It was probably why Alice had birthed seven children. And it would appear that these new comers, at least one of them, knew of the produce stall in the city.

Alice sought out a dish rag and wiped off her hands, and moved forward to greet them, "Lawd, look at those curls! The envy of every girl in the city I'm sure. And if not for your hair, then for this handsome young devil here." She turned to Ben, "And you know my Clyde and Dorothy then, huh? I hope they've been nice to you! Clyde is always a ham, but tell me, is Dorothy still behaving like a lady?"

Clyde rubbed the back of his neck which had suddenly grown itchy, "Hey, eh, Alanna. Wanna help me peel these potatoes?"

(OOC: Jade, if Maddie and Hugh and a few others go to their farm, would more join them? It just seems like all of the action is at the Knutson home. No matter how chaotic. lol. And DoD: I love that Morganna is taking interest in Clyde. :lol: )

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Walter Barrecks on Thu Jun 04, 2009 4:18 pm

Kitty started laughing, listening to Fiona. "I didn't think Lady Luck would ever consider a detective, but I suppose anythings possible." Kitty walked over to the ladder, looking up at two. "So Dorothy, this is your family's place?.. I couldn't quite imagine Birdie being a farm girl."

Meanwhile, Remy was picking spiderwebs from his face and hair. "Mus' hav' been quite som' time since som'one's been up here." He had a brief moment of confusion, and reached into his mouth, and drew several strings of web. "How...?" He ignored the event, shaking his hand clean, and using the lighter in the other. With a flick of it's cap off, the spark igniting it. "So we're lookin' bed an' t'in's?" He asked as he lifted a blanket of the ground.

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kohananinja on Thu Jun 04, 2009 6:00 pm

Holy smokes, even the chickens in New York were tougher! Gordie valiantly defended his face from the feathery menaces he now faced, but alas there were too many of the buggeres to getaway unscathed. He had helped with chickens before when staying with his friend Alejandra and his family in Panama, but these chickens here were either a lot smarter, or a lot spunkier. Probably both he decided, but there was not way he was going to be beaten by a bunch of chickens! Finally, he saw one he though he could grab, and he made a dive for it while also smacking away his assailants. Success! Pulling up his hands, not only had he managed to get the rather plump chicken by the neck in his right hand, but he’d grabbed another from the onslaught when they’d been on the attack! Probably more to dumb luck than skill, but he’d take it.

“Alright, I got ‘em, lemme out!” Gordie called out as he raced for the door.




“Well talk about man handling.” Adrian said with a wisp of a smile as she watched Fiona drag off her Cajun dick. Too bad for Gordie, but Fiona seemed taken, whether she would admit it to herself or not. At least that’s how it seemed to Adrian as she followed the group with Kathy to the attic. Kathy however wasn’t so amused by it. It wasn’t that she was infatuated with Remy or anything, though she’d become rather fond of him since he’d rescued her from Freddy a while back, but it was still weird to watch another woman drag around a man that looked so much like Ronny. Weird and very good at green tinting a girl’s eyes a bit. “I suppose.” Was all she said on the matter.

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Thu Jun 04, 2009 11:30 pm

Charlie, looking like he'd just stepped out of the lines of a vicious pillow-fight battle, grinned against the cold as he clapped Sam's shoulder. "Well, thanks, Sam. That really means a lot. Now I jest gotta get her ta like the idea, huh? That girl 'a yours, though, I don't think she's all that interested in settlin' down any time soon."

Charlie was speaking with exactly the same amount of seriousness that Sam had instigated. He had no idea what Dorothy would actually do if he were to suddenly drop to one knee and pull out a ring. Well, perhaps he had some idea...but that was besides the point. "Does it make me less of a man if I find the idea of killin' one 'a these things enjoyable?"

When the other man's suffering sounded as if it was over, Charlie was quick to help pull him out. He shuddered as a fat snowflake slipped down the crack between his collar and his neck. "Lawd, it's cold! I'm all for votin' in summah early, how about you fellas?"




Fiona made a face as she watched Remy pulling cobwebs from his mouth, and was going to tell him that she would not be kissing him until he'd brushed his teeth at least twice, but she chose to respond to Dorothy instead. "We'll just send down whatever we can find, then."

She accepted the candle and used it to gaze around. There were quite a few mattresses and extra blankets around, and Fiona moved forward to grab a few of them to send down...when suddenly she found herself face to face with a furry flapping demon.

"*shriek* What is that?!" Emitting perhaps the girliest sound that she had in the past ten years, Fiona suddenly found herself crouched cowering behind Remy, apparently having moved faster than even she could recognize. She yelped and ducked as the flapping little monstrosity (a bat, though she had no way of knowing, being the strict city girl that she was) came towards them, and then again as it circled around. "Oh my Gawd!" She pressed her face into Remy's back, wishing the fuzzy demon away.

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby NorthernSoul on Fri Jun 05, 2009 8:08 am

The Knutsons house? This was Dorothy's mother? Ben had a sudden urge to head back outside and try his luck in the blizzard. It was like being told you would be presented with a couple of fluffy kittens but actually being confronted with an entire family of alligators. Thank God she had no idea who he was or any inkling of what had gone on between him and her daughter. He silently prayed that Dorothy hadn't decided to pay a visit to the homestead.

But then Alice mentioned Clyde and, as if on cue, Ben saw him for the first time, standing in the corner of the room. His fears were almost entirely confirmed. If Clyde was here, then Dorothy very well could be too. As Ben nodded stoically at him, a thought struck him; what if she was here with Wallenstein? What if she was introducing him to her folks? Ben wished a convenient hole would open up from the ground and swallow him up. This would be too painful and awkward to bear.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," said Ben with confused ambiguity, unable to prevent himself from turning slightly pink. He ran his hand through his untidy hair uncomfortably. "I haven't seen her very much recently. So, anyway. We don't wanna disturb you if you've got guests. We'll be on our way, right, Levard?" he said, nudging Jo and turning hastily to go. There'd be somewhere else they could call in on. Hell, he'd rather sleep in the car than stay here and have to face Dorothy and Wallenstein playing happy families.

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby whiteangel on Fri Jun 05, 2009 9:57 am

Alice beamed at Ben, "Nonsense! None of these were planned guests, so you and...Levard, was it?...fit right in." She moved behind Ben and Jo and pushed them further into the kitchen. Clyde and Alanna had started peeling potatoes, "Why don't one of you chop those up, and another of you...well, would you mind heading out back to find the other men? It couldn't have taken them-"

"We're right her, Ma." Sam came trudging in through the same doorway that Ben and Jo had just entered, dripping wet and shivering, with two similar looking men behind him. The only difference was that he wasn't carrying any beheaded birds, and they were. And from the looks of it, they'd been de-feathered as well, "We got the old chicken-plucker up and running to. So who all do we have in here?"

Sam noticed a few new faces in addition to the already new faces at his home, not that he'd remember their names.


"Are you alright?" Dorothy tried to peer up into the vast darkness of the attic. She couldn't see Fiona, but had watched the candlelight cast a glow on the ceiling, and then quickly bob in Remy's direction. Dorothy assumed that a specter was dangling the head of someone long lost that Fiona had bumped off, because surely nothing as simple as a spider could spook the Irish dame. "What is it?"

As though on cue, the winged creature - likely more afraid for its own life than anything- flapped down from the attic like a bat out of hell...er...well, like the frenzied bat that it was. And it wasn't alone. It would appear that the pitched screeching it had cried was some sort of recruiting call, and now at least four or five other black rats swooped between the attic and the landing where Dorothy and the other women stood.

Dorothy wasn't afraid, having grown up on a farm after all. But she was annoyed, and not looking for a bat to get stuck in her hair. So she called out her family's infamous war cry, useful in times where flying things were unleashed in the house, "DUCK!"


Clyde heard Dorothy shout, and also heard a chorus of shrieks and yells coming from the upstairs. He glanced at the poultry hanging from the hands of Charlie and Gordon, "Well, I'm going to take wild guess that it ain't a chicken, eh?"

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Phedre on Fri Jun 05, 2009 12:00 pm

Hugh watched as Lance made his way through the frozen tundra to the wreck sight. "That's your car? Man, sorry bud. It doesn't look too swell." He saw the other man from the car make his was out of the vehicle, looking very disgruntled. Well, he certainly had a reason to be. His car was practically ruined. Hugh wasn't sure if it would even start up again.

Maddie had made her way over to the passenger side and was peering in to see if anyone else was in there. The person who had been driving didn't look too good and was kind of nodding off and groaning. "Hey Hugh, can you get the fellow out who was driving and carry him inside. It's closer to get to Dorothy's then to carry him to our house and Mrs. Knutson won't mind helping him get cleaned up. There's two others in the back." Maddie peered back in and jumped aside as the other man, looking rather more like a bear in his fur coat, opened the door for the other passenger, a woman.

"Are you guys alright? Quick, come inside before you freeze your keister's off!"
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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Kohananinja on Fri Jun 05, 2009 1:48 pm

“What was that?” Kathy asked Adrian uneasily as Dorothy went up the stairs to help, and sounds of shrieking were unleashed. Adrian was surprised to see the onslaught of bats came flying down the stairs, but she’d seen bats many times in China and India, whether in caves and tombs or markets, so the bats did little to frighten her, so she was quick to head Dorothy’s advice and ducked. Kathy on the other hand was a different story. Bats rats and anything with more than four legs did not go over well with her. She shrieked as loud as any of the others there, and out of fright and panic, clung to the person closest to her vicinity.



Gordie shook the snow out of his hair as they reentered the kitchen with the now beheaded and de-feathered chickens. Boy it was cold out tonight, and after beheading the chickens (one having a slightly nauseating talent for running around with its head cut off for a few moments before falling limp) and de-feathering them, he was more than ready to get them started up.

“I have to say ma’am, you and your husband raise some pretty tough chickens. I bet coyotes don’t even bother those beasties.” Gordie said presenting the her with the chickens. He then also heard the shrieks, and grimaced lightly as he heard an especially high pitched scream.

“Fifty cents say that’s my sister.”

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Walter Barrecks on Fri Jun 05, 2009 3:04 pm

Remy was shocked by the high pitched sentence Fiona uttered. What ever could have made her sound so girly. Remy watched the bat fly over his head several times before laughing as Fiona hid behind him."Oh, so you found a friend." He looked behind himself at the woman burying her face in his back. "It's jus' a bat ma cherie, an' he's probably more terrified dan you." He saw several of the the creatures follow there comrade like they were a squad of planes.

One of them, rather than flying away, had decided to land on Remy's head, stretching it's wings across his cranium. He could help by be amused by the concept. "Aww, how cute. He likes moi." He reached over his shoulder and tapped on Fiona's. "Look, da little fellow's friendly, a regular ami." He reached up with his other hand to pet the creature. " I ought ta name him."

Meanwhile, down the steps, Kitty was taking Dorothy's advice. "I'm with you on that!" She had nearly been curled up on the ground, her hands on her head. In this position, her stockings and garter could clearly be seen, which made her scurry to cover herself with her coat.
Last edited by Walter Barrecks on Sat Jun 06, 2009 5:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Jadeling Hawkins on Fri Jun 05, 2009 4:01 pm

Jo couldn't have been more pleased with meeting Alice Knutson, who clearly was a woman of great taste. Jo had the good grace to look tickled, flapping one hand modestly. "Oh, horsefeathers. That is just the sweetest thing...isn't she delightful, Goldie?"

She didn't even attempt to dismantle the idea of Ben being an enviable handsome devil. And only partially because she'd just realized what, exactly, had just been established. Dorothy Knutson...that dame that Ben had gotten good and drunk over. It had been a while now, but judging from the way Ben was attempting to drag her back out into the snowstorm to find some other conveniently placed farm, the wound was not yet patched up and scarred over.

But Alice wasn't going to have it. Which was good, because Jo was prepared to knock Ben over the head with a paperweight if that was what it took to sway him from leaving, rather than face a night in the same house as Dorothy. Just then, a few more men entered. Jo didn't recognize Charlie, wrapped up and frosted as he was, but she cheerfully introduced herself to the patriarch of the family just the same. "Good evening, Mister! My name is Josephine Levard, but everyone calls me 'Jo.' I hope you don't mind, we were just-"

That was when the screaming started upstairs, and Jo twisted in alarm in the direction of the source of the sound. "Have you got some sort of battle going on up there?"

Charlie was a little preoccupied trying to maneuver his dead chicken to a place where Alice could work her magic on it without dripping blood all over the place, and he certainly wasn't keeping track of all of the guests, so he didn't quite notice Ben and Jo standing there in the kitchen. When the hollering started, he jerked upright, the limp chicken flopping in his hand. "The hell-?"

Charlie set the bird down, and cleared his throat as he clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder, "I'm gonna go make sure that nobody's dyin' up theah. I'll be right back." And the Shamus hurried around the corner and up the stairs to see what the matter as.


"Ugh!" Fiona shuddered, quickly pressing her face once more into Remy's back. Then she quickly straightened out, taking several soothing breaths. The side of the veiny, leathery wings all stretched out was surreal and bothersome to a great degree. But mice were cute, weren't they? So maybe she could just think of the bats as flying mice. Cute, flying little mice. Cute, flying little mice that she could shoot out of the air if she really had to. She could handle that. She wasn't planning on petting one anytime soon, but she could at least stand the sight of them. Maybe it was because Remy looked so funny with one perched on top of his head. "Funny, you always struck me as more of a dog person."

With her feathers efficiently ruffled, Fiona decided to return to their original goal. Setting the candle down on the floor, Fiona started dragging the bedding over to the opening in the floor.


Charlie found most of the women up the stairs on the ground, curled up like someone was firing shots. The bats had, unbeknownst to the Detective, settled themselves into various nooks and crannies shortly after having caused all the fuss. "Hey, what's--OOF!!"

Charlie was interrupted by heavy down mattress sliding down the open door to the attic, directly on top of him, effectively flattening him.

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Re: Life Noir: Night at the Knutsons'

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby daughterofdon on Sat Jun 06, 2009 12:56 am

Morgana lingered in the kitchen, having an uncanny ability to chop onions without looking down to be sure she wasn’t chopping her fingers. The strong-smelling onions made her dark, heavily lined eyes watery and a little bloodshot. She used to them to quietly observe all of the talk and introductions in the kitchen. She knew everything about these people, of course, except she couldn’t get their names straight.

The screams from the attic brought pleasant shivers down her back. “Bats—what darling little creatures,” she murmured to herself with a loud sniffle.

When the men entered with the dead chickens, Morgana’s eyes glinted even more brightly. She ceased her chopping to glide discreetly over to where Charlie had set down his chicken. She lifted the bird and took it to her cutting board. She brushed her onions into a bowl, and set down the chicken. Then she took the knife and cut off the scaly feet. Taking her purse off her shoulder and opening the clasp, she slipped the pair of claws into it and closed it with a snap, a smile of satisfaction on her face.

Morgana crossed the kitchen once more when Gordon Dawson caught her eye. He was awfully handsome, with his youthful tan, snow-dampened chestnut hair and strapping shoulders. “Excuse me, darling. Allow me to take those chickens off your hands.” She held her hands out for the chickens, while her eyes roved shamelessly over the young and dashing pilot. When she looked lastly at his hands, she made a sound of concern. “Oh, did you get scratched, darling?” she lifted her hand and gingerly touched his possibly-scratched hand. “Dear, you’d better let me take care of it
”

----

“Yeah, no kidding,” Lance agreed morosely when Hugh remarked on the sorry state of his car. At that point, he felt his bleakest ever
 there was a blizzard, he had lost his job, he looked so shabby that even his girlfriend didn’t recognize him at first
 and he had lost his job. How was he going to pay for repairs or buy a new car if he didn’t have a job? A bit of anger flared in him—well, this wreck sure wasn’t his fault!

Lance drew himself up, looking irked and confrontational, and waded as purposefully through the snow as he could. He marched up to the man in the beaver coat who had first exited the Cadillac.

“Are you the owner of this vehicle?” the ex-sergeant demanded in an officerly voice. For the moment, he was prepared to whip out his badge and ticket book, forgetting that he no longer had one. “Who was driving?” as he asked, he was craning his neck to get a look at the figure who was leaning over the steering wheel. “This is my car that you crashed into
” he gestured to his Buick with a deep frown. Then, when he got a better look at the driver, he blurted, “Hold on a minute, how old is he? Let me see his license!”

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