Charlotte and her crew stood fiercely outside Hadrian's food and drink a about two in the morning. They stood in the fog as a light misting stirred rain in the sky leaving Captain's charlotte short blond hair sprinkled with light drops as she smirked.

   "Ready gents?!" she called behind her and when the crew responded with a roar of excitement, she lifted her pistol in the air and fired two shots. "This won't be fun if a few coppers don't show up." She smirked and the…

     London fog sat stationary as Arabella and Jon, cloaked in black, made their way through the empty alleyway, the smell of garbage and possibly something dead rising up through the air. 

     "I don't see why I have to come." Jon said quietly as they strolled through. 

     "Cap'n thought it'd be good for you." answered Ara. 

     "How is this any better than the damn ship right now?" 

     "You're from South London, deal with it." 

     "Just…

     "There's a fucking ghost on this ship!" yelled Charlotte, stamping out the whispering hum of the galley in saying so. Ara nodded, arms crossed, legs crossed as she leaned against the wall, slightly aloof from the crowd. 

      "What made you change your mind?" She piped in, feeling a bit cocky. "You were so unsure before." 

      "Shut it, Porter. Don't you say a word. Your boyfriend showed his machine wrecked face last night before I went to bed and if we wanted…

      It was midnight on the docks of London, fog drifting back and forth, congesting every open space where a ship was not present. From inside the cozy study, glowing light shone warmly, contrasting against the cold, cloudy gray of the London fog. Charlotte Bennet sat at her desk, eyes half closed, staring at a flaming candle in her gas lamp. It was obviously time to go to bed and she sighed upon the realization that she would actually have to stand up if she wanted to tuck herself…

All five companies in our battalion had made it ashore relatively intact along a half mile stretch at the eastern end of the wharf. The marines had secured the eastern end all to way to the affluent of the Pazundaung Creek. On the 7^th’s left the 23rd Royal Irish Guards had secured the rest of the port. Casualties, on the side of Her Majesty’s forces were heavy, as can be expected when storming a well defended position over open ground, but the Burmese defenders had been ravaged…

        A soft hum accompanied by the creaking of a ship echoed through the cloudy night as the Silver Widow hid in a cloud. Water droplets formed on Ara's goggles and her jacket felt damp but all was necessary to ambush the oncoming tea ship. 

        "Captain, I don't see it!" Fink called down from the crows nest and into a pipe that ran down near the mast where Charlotte stood next to Ara, goggles down, blue captain's hat on, with her feet rooted strongly in the ground and…

    My darling charlotte, 

           This music box plays he lullaby that I used to sing to you from the time you turned ten until you were over your insomnia. Here are the lyrics that go with it. Never forget its tune for one day, when you are captaining my ship and have seen the things I have seen, you will need this lullaby again to ease your sleepless nights. I love you, 

                           mother

    Hush now, my little girl

    Lay…

    the liquid sloshing sound of water bumping up against the docks broke through the London fog as she sat, kicking her legs off the side, trousers rolled up to her knees. She waited, staring blankly down at the water when suddenly the firm rim of something tapped onto her head, encircling it. She felt at her head with a confused look painted onto her face that wiped itself off when she pulled the black top hat off, shiny and black like the ones you could see at Kensington or North…

     With blurry shapes that shifted back and forth, Arabella slowly opened her eyes, her mind struggling to work out the puzzle that was her sight. The shapes collapsed into eachother, taking on balance and form; a glowing purple lantern, an old wooden chair, something with a wooden surface (a night stand?). she sowly worked outher sideways position with the warmth of a cushion pressing up to her cheek and a blanket over her body, feeling its presence as she shifted. There were…

Short Story RPS have a more dynamic ebb and flow than say, blog posts or longer storylines. The main reason for this is the rule set. They can be changed to suit the participants tastes, although they work rather well as is. Consider them more like sessions than campaigns.

"Ronin's Rules"

1) Only a single paragraph maximum may be added by any one character. Less is okay, even down to a single sentence, but not more than a normal sized paragraph. This…

     Jan 3, 2347

     One of the journals left behind by the Hell Bitch was the journal of one Mme B. Eggleston. The nature of this journal is often trivial and odd, but I can't afford to leave any stone unturned. I have chosen an entry at random. Eggleston rarely dates her entries, so I find myself at a loss trying to connect her journal to any useful information I have.

     Entry from the journal of Mme B. Eggleston, date unknown:

Many stories…

Rangoon 1852

The thunderous tumult of the cannonade shook the air as three ships of the line hurled volley after volley of 50 pound exploding shells at the stout hearted Burmese regiments defending the port of Rangoon. Blockhouse after blockhouse, formidable but ill equipped to stand up to such a furious barrage, fell. The second line ships and the sloops were already off loading scores of transports full of fiery Royal Marines.

Aboard the corvette…

It had been over a week since the game of chess between Wilhelm and the Holmes brothers. He had been working diligently in his laboratory trying his own changes to the formulas. He was certain there was some factor he was missing. Some minor adjustment that was escaping his notice.

Nearly nine in the evening he was relaxing in his sitting room, with a cigar already lit, when Sherlocke came into the room. The glint in his eye was all Wil needed to know that his friend had found…

Greetings, greetings.  Oh, do come in for tea and cookies!!!!  Welcome to the Orphanage of Fun and I am Granny Grunt.  I am the headmistress of the orphanage and am the scout leader for the little Orphan Scouts of Fun.  They are all rascals, but I do love them.  It is a matter of managing the mayhem.  They are an adventurous lot.



Watch your step.  There appears to be something that is being disassembled here in the doorway.  I believe it might be the neighbor's motorcycle.  Well,…

Dearest Elvira,

My rendezous in Erythrai with Hafez, the Mohammedian arcanist I've told you about, and Herr Schimmelmann the archaelogist was a smashing success. 

Hafez is quite the genial host; I always look forward to the preliminaries at his grand Aegean villa, though my equilibrium and fortitude is always tested by his taste for inebriating consumables. The Bacchanalian nature of the festivities included innumerable decanters of rakai, a liquor with both heady and…

Dearest Elvira,

My rendezous in Erythrai with Hafez, the Mohammedian arcanist I've told you about, and Herr Schimmelmann the archaelogist was a smashing success. 

Hafez is quite the genial host; I always look forward to the preliminaries at his grand Aegean villa, though my equilibrium and fortitude is always tested by his taste for inebriating consumables. The Bacchanalian nature of the festivities included innumerable decanters of rakai, a liquor with both heady and…

February 1^st 1864

I’ve been stranded here in Virginia since January sixth. Me and the North Carolina 28^th battalion are in the mud and dust, praying for light. I’ve just turned 22 and missing your famous blueberry cobbler you always make me on my birthday. Your tinplate keeps me hope as I hold it in my pocket. I will write back soon. I have begun to hear the cannon’s blaze across the fiery hills towards the north. I hear Sherman is coming

I love you…